LIBRARY 

uF 
CALIFORNIA 

DIE.GO 


J.  G.  LYNCH-PATRICK 


NATURE 


AND 


H  U  M  A  N    N  A  T  U  R  E  . 

;-      flat,  lixt/t" / ', 


BY    THE    AUTllOK    OV 


S  \  M    SLICK    1  II  B    C  J.  O  »j  K  -  M  A  K  E  F    ' 

•    <V|8C    8AW«."    "OLD    JDD6K.       f* 


Hnin<nern,  pagina  rostra  nipit. — MART. 

Kye  nature's  -vails*,  fhoot  foiiy  as  it  flies, 

AnJ  calch  the  H4.Lnen  living  as  tlmv  uo. — POPB. 


NEW    YORK: 
DICK     AND     FITZGERALD, 

NO.    18    ANN    STREET. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
A  SURPRISE -Page  IS 

CHAPTER  II. 

CLIPPERS  AND   STEAMERS '. 25 

CHAPTER  :  .2. 

UNLOCKING  A   WOMAN'S  HEART 37 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  CR1TTUR  WITH  A  THOUSAND  VIRTUES  AND  BUT  ONE 

VICE „ 49 

CHAPTER  V. 

A   NEW    WAY   TO   LEARN   GAELIC 62 


THE   WOUNDS 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE   HEART...  ...      75 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FIDDLING,   AND  DANCING,   AND  SERVING  THE  DEVIL...      95 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

STITCHING  A   BUTTON-HOLE 107 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   PLURAL  OF   MOOSE. 120 

CHAPTER  X. 

A   DAY  ON  THE   LAKE. — PART   I. 135 

CHAPTER  XI. 

A   DAY  ON  THE   LAKE. — PART   II. 149 

'  CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   BETROTHAL 153 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

A   FOGGY  NIGHT 169 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

FEMALE   COLLEGES 182 

CHAPTER  XV. 

GTPSEYING..  198 


CONTENTS.  XI 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE   WORLD   BEFORE  THE   FLOOD 209 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

LOST   AT  SEA 223 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HOLDING   UP  THE   MIRROR 237 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   BUNDLE   OF    STICKS 252 

CHAPTER  XX. 

TOWN   AND    COUNTRY 262 

CHAPTER  XXL 

THE    HONEYMOON 273 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

A   DISH  OF  CLAMS 285 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   DEVILS   HOLE;    OR,    FISH   AND   FLESH 298 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   CUCUMBER   LAKE 308 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

*?HK    RECAI.l.   .  .    324 


NATURE  AND  HUMAN  NATURE, 


CHAPTER   I. 
A   SURPRISE. 

TUIMW  I  to  myself,  as  I  overheard  a  person  inquire  of  the 
servant  at  the  door,  in  an  unmistakable  voice  and  tone,  "  Is  the 
Squire  to  home  f ;  that  can  be  no  one  else  than  my  old  friend  Sam 
Slick  the  Clockmaker.  But  it  could  admit  of  no  doubt  when  he 
proceeded,  "  If  he  is,  tell  him  /  am  here." 

"  Who  shall  I  say,  Sir  ?" 

The  stranger  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  it's  such  an 
everlastin'  long  name,  1  don't  think  you  can  carry  it  all  to  wunst, 
and  I  don't  want  it  broke  in  two.  Tell  him  it's  a  gentleman  that 
calculates  to  hold  a  protracted  meeten  here  to-night.  Come,  don't 
stand  starin'  there  in  the  track,  you  might  get  run  over.  Don't 
you  hear  the  engine  coining  'i  Shunt  off  now." 

"Ah.  my  old  friend."  said  I,  advancing,  and  shaking  him  by  the 
hrud,  u  how  are  you  T' 

"  As  hearty  as  a  buck,"  he  \eplied,  "though  I  can't  jist  jump 
quite  so  high  now." 

"  1  knew  you,"  I  said,  "  the  n.oment  I  heard  your  voice,  and  it 
I  had  not  recognized  that,  I  should  have  known  your  talk." 

"  That's  because  I  am  a  Yankee,  Sir,"  he  said ;  "  no  two  of  us 
look  alike,  or  talk  alike  ;  but,  being  free  and  enlightened  citizens, 
we  jist  talk  as  we  please." 

"Ah,  my  good  friend,  you  always  please  when  you  talk,  and 
that  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  most  men." 

"  And  so  will  you,"  he  replied,  "  if  you  use  soft  sawder  that 
way.  Oh,  dear  me  !  it  seems  but  the  other  day,  that  you  laughed 
•oat  my  theorv  of  soft  sa\vdor  and  human  natnr',  don't  it?  They 


14  A     SURPRISE. 

were  pleasant  days,  warn't  they  ?  I  often  think  of  them,  and  think 
of  them  with  pleasure  too.  As  I  was  passing  Halifax  harbor,  on  my 
way  home  in  the  '  Black  Hawk,'  the  wind  fortunately  came  ahead, 
and,  thinks  I  to  myself,  I  will  put  in  there,  and  pull  foot*  for  Wind- 
sor and  see  the  Squire,  give  him  my  journal,  and  spend  an  hour  or 
two  with  him  once  more.  So  here  I  a-m,  at  least  what  is  left  of  me. 
and  dreadful  glad  I  am  to  see  you  too ;  but  as  it  is  about  your  din 
ner  hour,  I  will  go  and  titivate  up  a  bit,  and  then  we  will  have  a 
dish  of  chat  for  dessert,  and  cigars  to  remind  us  of  by-gones,  -is  we 
stroll  through  your  shady  walks  here." 

My  oil  friend  had  worn  well ;  he  was  still  a  wiry  athletic  man, 
and  his  step  as  elastic  and  spring}''  as  ever.  The  constant  exercise 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  taking  had  preserved  his  health  and 
condition,  and  these  in  their  turn  had  enabled  him  to  maintain  his 
cheerfulness  and  humor.  The  lines  in  his  face  were  somewhat 
deeper,  and  a  few  straggling  gray  hairs  were  the  only  traces  of  the 
hand  of  time.  His  manner  was  much  improved  by  his  intercourse 
with  the  great  world ;  but  his  phraseology,  in  which  he  appeared 
to  take  both  pride  and  pleasure,  was  much  the  uame  as  when  I  first 
knew  him.  So  little,  indeed,  was  he  changed,  that  I  could  scarcely 
believe  so  many  years  had  elapsed  since  we  made  our  first  toui 
together. 

It  was  a  most  unexpected  and  agreeable  visit.  He  enlivened  thf 
conversation  at  dinner  with  anecdotes  that  were  often  too  much  foi 
the  gravity  of  my  servant,  who  once  or  twice  left  the  room  to  avoid 
explosive  outbreaks  of  laughter.  Among  others,  he  told  me  the 
following  whimsical  story : 

"  When  the  '  Black  Hawk '  was  at  Causeau,  we  happened  to  have 
a  queer,  original  sort  of  man,  a  Nova  Scotia  doctor,  on  board,  who 
joined  our  party  at  Ship  Harbor,  for  the  purpose  of  taking  a  cruise 
with  us.  Not  having  anything  above  particular  to  do,  we  left  the 
vessel  and  took  passage  in  a  coaster  for  Prince  Edward's  Island, 
as  my  commission  required  me  to  spend  a  day  or  two  there,  and 
inquire  about  the  fisheries.  Well,  although  I*  don't  trade  now,  I 
spekelate  sometimes  when  I  see  a  right  smart  chance,  and  especially 
if  there  is  fun  in  the  transaction.  So,  sais  I,  '  Doctor,  I  will  play 
possumf  with  these  folks,  and  take  a  rise  out  of  them  that  will 
astonish  their  weak  nerves,  /  know,  while  I  put  several  hundred 

*  The  Americans  are  not  entitled  to  the  credit  or  ridicule,  whichever  people 
may  be  disposed  to  bestow  upon  them,  for  the  extraordinary  phrases  with 
which  their  conversation  is  occasionally  embellished.  Some  of  them  have 
good  classical  authority.  That  of  "  pull  foot"  may  be  traced  to  Euripides. 

"  d:>aipuv  IK  tiu/jarcjv  noda." 

t  The  opossum,  when  chased  v>y  do?s,  will  often  pretend  to  be  dead,  »ad 
'Hyi  deceive  his  pursuers 


A8UKPK18K.  16 

dollars  in  my  pocket  at  the  same  time.'  So  I  advertised  that  I 
would  give  four  pounds  ten  shillings  for  the  largest  Hackmetack 
knee  in  the  island,  four  pounds  for  the  second,  three  pounds  ten 
shillings  for  the  third,  and  three  pounds  for  the  fourth  biggest  one. 
I  suppose,  Squire,  you  know  what  a  Chip's  knee  is,  don't  you  ?  It 
is  a  crooked  piece  of  timber,  exactly  the  shape  of  a  man's  leg 
when  kneeling.  It  forms  two  sides  of  a  square,  and  makes  a 
grand  fastening  for  the  side  and  deck  beams  of  a  vessel. 

" '  What  in  the  world  do  you  want  of  only  four  of  those  knees?' 
said  the  Doctor. 

" '  Nothing,'  said  I,  '  but  to  raise  a  laugh  on  these  critters,  and 
wake  them  pay  real  handsome  for  the  joke.' 

"  Well,  every  bushwhacker  and  forest-ranger  in  the  island 
thought  he  knew  where  to  find  four  enormous  ones,  and  that  he 
would  go  and  get  them,  and  say  nothing  to  nobody,  and  all  that 
morning  fixed  for  the  delivery,  they  kept  coming  into  the  shipping 
place  with  them.  People  couldn't  think  what  under  the  light  of 
the  living  sun  was  going  on,  for  it  seemed  as  if  every  team  in  the 
province  was  at  work,  and  all  the  countrymen  were  running  mad 
on  junipers.  Perhaps  no  livin'  soul  ever  see  such  a  beautiful 
collection  of  ship-timber  afore,  and  J  am  sure  never  will  again  in  a 
crow's  age.  The  way  these  'old  oysters'  (a  nick-name  I  gave  the 
islanders,  on  account  of  their  everlastin'  beds  of  this  shell-fish,) 
opened  their  mugs  and  gaped,  was  a  caution  to  dying  calves. 

"  At  the  time  appointed,  there  were  eight  hundred  sticks  on  the 
ground,  the  very  best  in  the  colony.  Well,  I  went  very  gravely 
round  and  selected  the  four  largest,  and  paid  for  them  cash  down 
on  the  nail,  according  to  contract.  The  goneys  seed  their  fix,  but 
didn't  know  how  they  got  into  it.  They  didn't  think  hard  of  me, 
for  I  advertised  for  four  sticks  only,  and  1  gave  a  very  high  price 
for  them  ;  but  they  did  think  little  mean  of  themselves,  that's  a 
fact,  for  each  man  had  but  four  pieces,  and  they  were  too  ridiculous 
large  for  the  thunderin'  small  vessels  built  on  the  island.  They 
scratched  their  heads  in  a  way  that  was  harrowing,  even  in  a  stub- 
ble-field. 

"  'My  gracious,'  sais  I,  '  hackmetacks,  it  seems  to  me,  is  as  thick 
in  this  country  as  blackberries  in  the  Fall,  after  the  robins  have  left 
to  go  to  sleep  for  the  winter.  Who  on  earth  would  have  thought 
there  was  so  many  here  ?  Oh,  children  of  Israel !  What  a  lot 
there  is,  aint  there?  Why,  the  father  of  this  island  couldn't  hold 
them  all.' 

"  '  Father  of  this  island,'  sais  they,  '  who  is  he  1 ' 

"  '  Why,'  sais  I,  '  aint  this  Prince*  Edward's?' 

"'Why.  yes,'  sais  they,  looking  still  more  puzzled- 

"'Well,'"  sais    I,   kin"tlie    middle    of  Halifax    harbor  is   King 
re';  Island,  and  that  n-ust  be  the  father  of  this.' 


16  A     SURPRISE. 

"  Well  if  they  could  see  any  wit  in  that  speech,  it  is  more  than 
J  could,  to  save  my  soul  alive  ;  but  it  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world  to  set  a  crowd  off  a  tee-heeing.  They  can't  help  it,  for  it  is 
electrical.  Go  to  the  circus  now,  and  you  will  hear  a  stupid  joke 
of  the  clown  ;  well,  you  are  determined  you  won't  laugh,  but  some- 
how you  can't  help  :t  no  how  you  can  fix  it,  although  you  are  mad 
with  yourself  for  dciiig  so,  and  you  just  roar  out  and  are  as  big  a 
fool  as  all  the  rest. 

"  Well  it  made  them  laugh,  and  that  was  enough  for  me. 

"  Sais  I,  '  the  worst  of  it  is,  gentlemen,  they  are  all  so  shocking 
large,  and  as  there  is  no  small  ones  among  them,  they  can't  be 
divided  into  lots,  still,  as  you  seem  to  be  disappointed,  I  will  make 
you  an  offer  for  them,  cash  down,  all  hard  gold.'  So  I  gave  them 
n  bid  at  a  very  low  figure,  say  half  nothing,  'and,'  sais  I,  'I  advise 
you  not  to  take  it,  they  are  worth  much  more,  if  a  man  only  knows 
what  to  do  with  them.  Some  of  your  traders,  1  make  no  manner 
of  doubt,  will  give  you  twice  as  much  if  you  will  only  take  your 
pay  in  goods,  at  four  times  their  value,  and  perhaps  they  mightent 
like  your  selling  them  to  a  stranger,  for  they  are  a:l  responsible 
government-men,  and  act  accordin'  'to  the  well  understood  wishes 
of  the  people.'  1  shall  sail  in  two  hours,  and  you  can  let  me  know  ; 
but  mind,  I  can  only  buy  all  or  none,  for  I  shall  have  to  hire  a 
vessel  to  carry  there.  After  all,'  sais  I,  '  perhaps  we  had  better  not 
trade,  for,'  taking  out  a  handful  of  sovereigns  from  my  pocket,  and 
jingling  them,  'there  is  no  two  ways  about  it;  these  little  fellows 
are  easier  to  carry  by  a  long  chalk  than  them  great  lummokin' 
hackmetacks.  Good  bye,  gentlemen.' 

"  Well,  one  of  the  critters,  who  was  as  awkward  as  a  wrong 
boot,  soon  calls  out,  '  whough,'  to  me,  so  I  turns  and  sais  '  well, 
"old  hoss,"  what  do  you  want?'  At  which  they  laughed  louder 
than  before. 

"  Sais  he,  '  we  have  concluded  to  take  your  offer.' 

"  '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  there  is  no  back  out  in  me,  here  is  your  money, 
the  knees  is  mine.'  So  I  shipped  them,  and  had  the  satisfaction  to 
oblige  them,  and  put  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  in  my  pocket. 
There  are  three  things,  Squire,  I  like  in  a  spekelatiorf :  —  First.  A 
fair  shake.  Second.  A  fair  profit;  and  Third,  a  fair  share  of 
fun." 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  he  said,  "Squire,  I  have  brought 
you  my  journal,  for  I  thought  when  I  was  a  startin'  off,  as  there 
were  some  things  1  should  like  to  point  out  to  my  old  friend,  it 
would  be  as  well  to  deliver  it  myself  and  mention  them,  for  what 
in  natur'  is  the  good  of  letter  writing  1  In  business  there  is  nothing 
like  a  good  talk  face  to  face.  Now,  Squire,  I  am  really  what  I 
assume  ta  be  — I  am,  in  fact,  Sam  Slick  the  Clockinaker,  and 
uobody  else.  It  is  of  no  consequence,  however,  to  the  world 


A     SURPRISE.  17 

wiiether  this  is  really  my  name  or  an  assumed  one.  If  it  is  the 
first,  it  is  a  matter  of  some  importance  to  take  care  of  it,  and 
defend  it ;  if  it  is  a  fictitious  one,  it  is  equally  so  to  preserve  my 
incognito.  I  may  not  choose  to  give  my  card,  and  may  not  desire 
to  be  known.  A  satirist,  like  an  Irishman,  finds  it  convenient  some- 
times to  shoot  from  behind  a  shelter.  Like  him,  too,  he  may  occa- 
sionally miss  his  shot,  and  firing  with  intent  to  do  bodily  harm  is 
almost  as  badly  punished  as  if  death  had  ensued.  And  besides  an 
anonymous  book  has  a  mystery  about  it.  Moreover,  what  more 
right  has  a  man  to  say  to  you,  '  stand  and  deliver  your  name,'  than 
to  say,  'stand  and  fork  out  your  purse1  —  I  can't  see  the  difference 
for  the  life  of  me.  Hesitation  betrays  guilt.  If  a  person  inquires 
it  you  are  to  home,  the  servant  is  directed  to  say,  no,  if  you  don't 
want  to  be  seen,  and  choose  to  be  among  the  missing.  Well,  if  a 
feller  asks  if  I  am  the  Mr.  Slick,  I  have  just  as  good  a  right  to  say, 
'  ask  about  and  find  out.' 

"  People  sometimes,  I  actilly  believe,  take  you  for  me.  If  they 
do,  all  I  have  to  say  is,  they  are  fools  not  to  know  better,  for  we 
neither  act  alike,  talk  alike,  nor  look  alike,  though  perhaps  we  may 
think  alike  on  some  subjects.  You  was  bred  and  born  here  in 
Nova  Scotia,  and  not  in  Connecticut,  and  if  they  ask  you  where  I 
was  raised,  tell  them  I  warn't  raised  at  all,  but  was  found  one  fine 
morning  pinned  across  a  clothes-line,  after  a  heavy  washing  to  home. 
It  is  easy  to  distinguish  an  editor  from  the  author,  if  a  reader  has 
half  an  eye,  and  if  he  haint  got  that,  it's  no  use  t"  offer  him  spec- 
tacles, that's  a  fact.  Now,  by  trade  I  am  u  clooKmaker,  and  by 
birth  I  have  the  honor  to  be  a  Yankee.  I  u^e  the  word  honor 
Squire,  a  purpose,  because  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about,  which 
1  am  sorry  to  say,  is  not  quite  so  common  a  thing  in  the  world  am 
people  suppose.  The  English  call  all  us  Americans,  Yankees,  be 
cause  they  don't  know  what  they  are  talking  about,  and  are  not 
aware  that  it  is  only  the  inhabitants  of  New  England,  who  can 
boast  of  that  appellation,* 

*  Brother  Jonathan  is  the  general  term  for  all.  It  originated  thus.  When 
General  Washington,  after  being  appointed  commander  of  the  army  of  the 
Revolutionary  War,  came  to  Massachusetts  to  organize  it.  and  make  preparations 
for  the  Jefence  of  the  country,  he  found  a  great  want  of  ammunition  and  other 
means  necessary  to  meet  the  powerful  foe  he  had  to  contend  with,  and  great  dif- 
ficulty to  obtain  them.  If  attacked  in  such  condition,  the  cause  at  once  might 
be  hopeless.  On  one  occasion  at  that  anxious  period,  a  consultation  of  the  offi- 
cers and  others  was  had,  when  it  seemed  no  way  could  be  devised  to  make  such 
preparations  as  was  necessary.  His  Excellency  Jonathan  Trumbull,  the  elder, 
was  then  Governor  of  the  State  of  Connecticut,  on  whose  judgment  and  aid  the 
General  placed  the  greatest  reliance,  and  remarked,  "  We  must  consult  '  Brother 
lonaihan  '  on  the  subject."  The  General  did  so,  and  the  Governor  was  success- 
ful in  supplying  many  of  the  wants  of  the  army.  When  difficulties  arose,  and 
thi-  army  was  spread  over  the  countrVi  it  became  a  by-wonl,  "  We  must  cotuuit 


IS  A     6UKPKISK. 

"The  southerners,  who  are  both  as  proud  and  as  sarcy  as  the 
British,  call  us  Eastern  folk  Yankees,  as  a  term  of  reproach, 
bit-cause  having  no  slaves,  we  are  obliged  to  be  our  own  niggers, 
and  do  our  own  work,  which  isn't  considered  very  genteel,  and  as 
•we  are  intelligent,  enterprising,  and  skilful,  and  therefore  too  often 
credito  s  of  our  more  luxurious  countrymen,  they  do  not  like  us 
the  better  for  that,  and  not  being  Puritans  themselves,  are  apt  to 
style  us  scornfully,  those  d  — d  Yankees. 

"Now,  all  this  comes  of  their  not  knowing  what  they  are  talking 
about.  Even  the  New  Englanders  themselves,  cute  as  they  be, 
often  use  the  word  foolishly  ;  for,  Squire,  would  you  believe  it, 
none  of  them,  though  they  answer  to  and  acknowledge  the  appella- 
t  on  of  Yankee  with  pride,  can  tell  you  its  origin.  1  repeat,  there- 
fore, I  have  the  honor  to  be  a  Yankee.  I  don't  mean  to  say  that 
word  is  '  all  same,'  as  the  Indians  say,  as  perfection  ;  far  from  it, 
for  we  have  some  peculiarities  common  to  us  all.  Cracking  and 
boasting  is  one  of  these.  Now  braggin'  comes  as  natural  to  me  as 
scratchin'  to  a  Scotchman.  I  am  as  fond  of  rubbing  myself  agin 
the  statue  of  George  the  Third,  as  he  is  of  se-sawing  his  shoulders 
on  the  mile-stones  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle.  Each  in  their  way 
were  great  benefactors,  the  one  by  teaching  the  Yankees  to  respect 
themselves,  and  the  other  by  putting  his  countrymen  in  an  upright 
posture  of  happiness.  So  1  can  join  hands  with  the  North  Briton, 
and  bless  them  both. 

"With  this  national  and  nateral  infirmity,  therefore,  is  it  to  be 
wondered  at,  if.  as  my  'Sayings  and  Doings'  have  become  more 
popular  than  you  or  1  ever  expected,  that  I  should  crack  and  boast 
of  them  ?  1  think  not.  If  I  have  a  claim,  my  rule  is  to  go  ahead 
with  it.  Now  don't  leave  out  my  braggin',  Squire,  because  you 
are  afraid  people  will  think  it  is  you  speaking,  and  not  me,  or  because 
you  think  it  is  bad  taste  as  you  call  it  I  know  what  I  am  at,  and 
don't  go  it — blind.  My  journal  contains  much  for  my  own  coi/n- 
trymen  as  well  as  the  English,  for  we  expect  every  American  abroad 
to  sustain  the  reputation  in  himself  of  our  great  nation. 

"  Now  Ingersoll,  our  Minister  to  Victoria's  Court,  when  he  made 
his  brag  speech  to  the  great  agricultural  dinner  at  Gloucester  last 
year,  didn't  intend  that  f<>r  the  British,  but  for  us.  So  in  Congress 
no  man  in  either  house  can  speak  or  read  an  oration  more  than  an 
hour  long,  but  he  can  send  the  whole  lock  rum,  includiu'1  what  he 
didri't  say,  to  the  papers.  One  has  to  brag  before  foreign  assem- 
blies, the  other  before  a  Congress,  but  both  have  an  eye  to  the  feel- 
ings of  the  Americans  at  large,  and  their  own  constituents  in  par- 
ticular. Now  that  is  a  trick  others  know  as  well  as  we  do.  The 

Brother  Jonathan."  The  term  Yankee  is  still  applied  to  a  portion,  hut  "  Brother 
Jonathan  ''  has  now  become  a  designation  of  the  whole  country,  as  John  Bull  u 
f«T  England. — BARTLETT'S  AMERICANISMS. 


A?'JKPK18K.  IS 

Irish  member  from  i\nmany,and  him  from  Kilmore,  when  he  brags 
there  never  was  a  murder  in  either,  don't  expect  the  English  to 
believe  it,  for  he  is  availed  they  know  better,  but  the  brag  pleases 
the  patriots  to  home,  on  account  of  its  impudence. 

"So  the  little  man,  Lord  Bunkum,  when  he  opens  Oxford  to  Jew 
and  Gentile,  and  oilers  to  make  Rothschild  Chancellor  instead  of 
Lord  Derby,  and  tells  them  old  dons,  the  heads  of  colleges  as  po- 
lite as  a  stage-driver,  that  he  does  it  out  of  pure  regard  to  them, 
and  only  to  improve  the  University,  don't  expect  them  to  believe 
it ;  for  he  gives  them  a  sly  wink  when  he  says  so,  as  much  as  t<> 
say,  how  are  you  off  for  Hebrew,  my  old  septuagenarians]  Droll 
boy  is  Rothey,  for  though  he  comes  from  the  land  of  Hum,  he  don't 
eat  pork.  But  it  pleases  the  sarcumsised  Jew,  and  the  unsarcum 
sised  tag-rag  and  bobtail  that  are  to  be  admitted,  and  who  verily 
do  believe  (tor  their  bump  of  conceit  is  largely  developed)  that 
they  can  improve  the  Colleges  by  granting  educational  excursion 
tickets. 

"So  Paddy  O'Shonnosey,  the  member  fur  Blarney,  when  he 
votes  for  smashing  in  the  porter's  lodges  of  that  Protestant  insti- 
tution, and  talks  of  Toleration  and  Equal  Rights,  and  calls  the 
Duke  of  Tuscany  a  broth  of  a  boy,  and  a  light  to  illumine  hereti- 
cal darkness,  don't  talk  this  nonsense  to  please  the  outs  and  ins, 
for  he  don't  care  a  snap  of  his  finger  for  either  of  them,  nor  because 
he  thinks  it  right,  for  it's  plain  he  don't,  seeing  that  he  would  fight 
till  he'd  run  away  before  Maynooth  should  be  sarved  arter  that 
fashion;  but  he  does  it,  because  he  knows  it  will  please  him,  or 
them,  that  sent  him  there. 

"There  are  two  kinds  of  boastin,' Squire,  active  and  passive. 
The  former  belongs  exclusively  to  my  countrymen,  and  the  latter 
to  the  British.  A  Yankee  openly  asserts  and  loudly  proclaims  his 
superiority.  John  Bull  feels  and  looks  it.  He  don't  give  utter 
ance  to  this  conviction.  He  takes  it  for  granted  all  the  world 
knows  and  admits  it,  and  he  is  so  thoroughly  persuaded  of  it  him- 
self, that,  to  use  his  own  favorite  phrase,  he  don't  care  a  fig  if  folks 
don't  admit  it.  His  vanity,  therefore,  has  a  sublimity  in  it.  He 
thinks,  as  the  Italians  say,  '  that  when  nature  formed  him,  she 
broke  the  mould.'  There  never  was,  never  can,  and  never  will  be, 
another  like  him.  His  boastin',  therefore,  is  passive.  He  shows 
it  and  acts  it ;  but  he  don't  proclaim  it.  He  condescends  and  is 
gracious,  patronizes  and  talks  down  to  you.  Let  my  boastin'  alone, 
therefore,  Squire,  if  you  please.  You  know  what  it  means,  what 
bottom  it  has,  and  \shether  the  plaster  sticks  on  the  right  spot  or 
not. 

"So  there  is  the  first  division  of  my  subject.  Now  for  the 
second.  But  don't  go  on"  at  half-cock,  narvous  like.  1  am  not  like 
the  blnck  preacher  that  had  forty -el  even  divisions.  I  have  only  « 


20  ASUKPK1SE. 

few  m>re  remarks  to  make.  Well,  I  have  observed  that  in  editin 
my  last  journal,  you  struck  out  some  scores  I  made  under  certain 
passages  and  maxims,  because  you  thought  they  were  not  needed, 
or  looked  vain.  I  know  it  looks  consaited  as  well  as  yon  do,  but 
]  know  th«ir  use  also.  I  have  my  own  views  of  things.  Let  them 
also  he  as  I  have  made  them.  They  warn't  put  there  for  nothin'. 
I  have  a  f  vse  in  pint  that  runs  on  all  fours  with  it,  as  brother  Josiah 
the  lawyer  used  to  say,  and  if  there  was  anythin'  wantin1  to  prove 
that  lawyers  were  not  strait  up  and  down  in  their  dealings,  that 
expression  would  shew  it. 

"I  was  to  court  wunst  to  Slickville,  when  he  was  addressin'  of 
the  jury.  The  main  points  of  his  argument  he  went  over  and  over 
again  till  I  got  so  tired  I  took  up  my  hat  and  walked  out.  Sais  I 
to  him,  arter  court  was  prorogued  and  members  gone  home. 

"'Sy,'  sais  I,  'why  on  airth  did  you  repeat  them  arguments  so 
often  '?  It  was  everlastin'  yarny.' 

"  '  Sam,'  says  he,  and  he  gave  his  head  a  jupe,  and  pressed  his 
lips  close,  like  a  lemon-squeezer,  the  way  lawyers  always  do  when 
tney  want  to  look  wise,  '  when  leant  drive  a  nail  with  one  blow,  1 
hammer  away  till  I  Jo  git  it  in.  Some  folks'  heads  is  as  hard  as 
hackmetacks — you  have  to  bore  a  hole  in  it  first,  to  put  the  nail  in 
to  keep  it  from  bendin',  and  then  it  is  as  much  as  a  bargain,  if  you 
can  send  it  home  and  clinch  it.' 

"  Now  maxims  and  saws  are  the  sumtotalisation  of  a  thing. 
Folks  won't  always  add  up  the  columns  to  see  if  they  are  footed 
right,  but  show  'em  the  amount  and  result,  and  that  they  are  able 
to  remember,  and  carry  away  with  them.  No — no,  put  them 
Italics  in,  as  I  have  always  done.  They  shew  there  is  truth  at  the 
bottom,  i  like  it.  for  it's  what  I  call  sense  on  the  short-c;irds — do 
you  take?  Recollect  always, you  are  not  Sam  Slick,  and  I  am  not 
you.  The  greatest  compliment  a  Britisher  would  think  he  could 
pay  you.  would  be  to  say,  '  I  should  have  taken  you  for  an  English- 
man.'  Now  the  greatest  compliment  he  can  pay  me  is  to  take  me 
for  a  Connecticut  Clockmaker,  who  hoed  his  way  up  to  the  Embassy 
to  London,  and  preserved  so  much  of  his  nationality,  after  being 
so  long  among  foreigners.  Let  the  Italics  be — you  aint  answera- 
ble for  them,  nor  my  boastin'  neither.  When  you  write  a  book  of 
}our  own,  leave  out  both,  if  you  like,  but  as  you  only  edi4;  my 
Journal,  if  you  leave  them  out,  just  go  one  step  further,  and  leave 
out  Sam  Slick  also. 

"  There  is  another  thing,  Squire,  upon  which  I  must  make  a 
remark,  if  you  will  bear  with  me.  In  my  last  work  you  made  me 
speak  purer  English  than  you  found  in  rny  Journal,  and  altered  mv 
phraseology,  or  rather  my  dialect.  Now,  my  dear  Nippent — " 

"  Nippent!"  said  1,  li  what  is  that?" 

''The  most  endearing  word   in   the  Indian  language  for  friend. 


1.     SURPRISE.  21 

»«e  said,  "only  it's  more  comprehensive,  including  ally,  foster- 
brother,  life-preserver,  shaft-horse,  and  everything  that  has  a  humai. 
tie  in  it." 

"Ah,  Slick,"  I  said,  "how  skilled  you  are  in  soft  sawder !  You 
laid  that  trap  for  me  on  purpose,  so  that  I  might  ask  the  question, 
to  enable  you  to  throw  the  lavender  to  me." 

'•  Dod  drot  th;it  word  soft  sawder,"  said  he,  "  I  wish  I  had  never 
invented  it.  I  can't  say  a  civil  thing  to  anybody  now,  but  he  looks 
arch,  as  if  he  had  found  a  mare's  nest,  and  says,  '  Ah,  Slick  !  none 
of  your  soft  sawder  now.'  But,  my  dear  nippent,  by  that  means 
you  destroy  my  individuality.  I  cease  to  be  the  genuine  itinerant 
Yankee  Clockmaker,  and  merge  into  a  very  bad  imitation.  You 
know  I  am  a  natural  character,  and  always  was,  and  act  and  talk 
naturally,  and  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  the  little  alteration  my  sojourn 
in  London  with  the  American  embassy  has  made  in  my  pronuncia- 
tion and  provincialism,  is  by  no  means  an  improvement  to  my 
Journal.  The  moment  you  takeaway  my  native  dialect,  I  become 
the  representaiive  of  another  class,  and  cease  to  be  your  old  friend, 
'  Sam  Slick,  the  Clockmaker.'  Bear  with  me  this  once,  Squire, 
and  don't  tear  your  shirt,  1  beseech  you,  for  in  all  probability  it 
will  be  the  last  time  it  will  be  in  your  power  to  subject  me  to  the 
ordeal  of  criticism,  and  1  should  like,  1  confess,  to  remain  true  to 
myself,  and  to  Nature  to  the  last. 

•"  On  the  other  hand,  Squire,  you  will  find  passages  in  this  Jour- 
nal, that  have  neither  Yankee  words,  nor  Yankee  brag  in  them. 
Now  pray  don't  go  as  you  did  in  the  last,  and  alter  them  by  insar- 
ten  here  and  there  what  you  call  '  Americanisms,'  so  as  to  make  it 
more  in  character,  and  uniform  ;  that  is  going  to  t'other  extreme, 
for  I  can  write  as  pure  English,  if  1  can't  speak  it,  as  anybody  can.* 
My  education  warnt  a  college  one,  like  my  brothers,  Eldad's  arid 
Josiah's,  the  doctor  and  lawyer;  but  it  was  not  neglected  for  all 
that.  Dear  old  Minister  was  a  scholar,  every  inch  of  him,  and 
took  great  pains  with  me  in  my  themes,  letters  and  composition. 
'Sam,'  he  used  to  say,  '  there  are  four  things  needed  to  write  well  : 
first,  master  the  language  grammatically  ;  second,  master  your  sub- 
ject ;  third,  write  naturally  ;  fourth,  let  your  heart  as  well  as  your 
hand  guide  the  pen.  It  aint  out  of  keeping,  therefore,  for  me  to 
express  myself  decently  in  composition  if  I  choose.  It  warnt  out 

*  The  reader  will  perceive  from  a  perusal  of  this  Journal,  that  Mr.  Slick,  who 
is  always  so  ready  to  detect  absurdity  in  others,  has  in  this  instance  exhibited  a 
species  of  vanity  by  no  means  uncommon  in  this  world.  He  prides  himself 
more  on  composition  to  which  he  has  but  small  pretensions,  than  on  those  things 
for  which  the  public  is  willing  enough  to  give  him  full  credit.  Had  he,  how- 
ever, received  a  classical  education,  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  he  would 
have  been  as  useful  or  successful  a  man  as  President  of  Yale  College,  as  ht  li<u 
*H-en  as  an  itinerant  practical  Clockmiker. 


22  .A     SURPRISE. 

of  character  with  Franklin,  and  he  was  a  poor  printer  boy,  noi 
Washington,  and  he  was  only  a  land  surveyor,  and  they  growed  to 
be  '  some  punkins'  too. 

"  An  American  clockmaker  aint  like  a  European  one.  He  may 
not  be.  as  good  a  workman  as  t'other  one,  but  he  can  do  somethin' 
else  besides  inakin'  wheels  and  pulleys.  One  always  looks  forward 
to  rise  in  the  world,  the  other  to  attain  excellence  in  his  line.  I 
am,  as  I  have  expressed  it  in  some  part  of  this  Journal,  not 
ashamed  of  having  been  a  tradesman — 1  glory  in  it;  but  1  shou'd 
indeed  have  been  ashamed,  if,  with  the  instruction  I  received  from 
dear  old  Minister,  I  had  always  remained  one.  No,  don't  alter  my 
Journal.  I  am  just  v\hat  I  am,  and  nothing  more  or  less.  You 
can't  measure  me  by  English  standards  ;  you  must  take  an  Ameri- 
can.one,  and  that  will  give  you  my  length,  breadth,  height  and 
weight  to  a  hair,  if  silly  people  take  you  for  me,  and  put  my 
braggin'  on  your  shoulders,  why  jist  say,  '  You  might  be  mistakened 
for  a  worse  fellow  than  he  is,  that's  all.'  Yes,  yes,  let  my  talk 
remain  '  down-east  talk,'*  and  my  writin'  remain  clear  of  cant 
terms  when  you  6.nd  it  so. 

"  1  like  Yankee  words — I  learned  them  when  young.  Father 
and  mother  used  them,  and  so  did  all  the  old  folks  to  Slickville. 
There  is  both  fun,  sense  and  expression  in  'em  too,  and  that  is  more 
than  there  is  in  Taffy's,  Pat's,  or  Sawney's  brogue  either.  The  one 
enriches  and  enlarges  the  vocabulary,  the  other  is  nothing  but 
broken  English,  arid  so  confoundedly  broken  too,  you  can't  put  the 
pieces  together  sometimes.  Again,  my  writing,  when  1  freeze 
down  solid  to  it,  is  just  as  much  in  character  as  the  other. 
Recollect  this.  Every  woman  in  our  country  who  has  a  son,  knows 
that  he  may,  and  thinks  that  he  will,  become  President  of  the 
United  States,  and  that  thought  and  that  chance  make  that  boy 
superior  to  any  of  his  class  in  Europe. 

"  And  now,  Squire,"  said  he,  "  1  believe  there  has  been  enough 
said  about  myself  and  my  Journal.  Sposen  we  drink  success  to 
the  'human  nature,'  or  'men  and  things,'  or  whatever  other  name 
you  select  for  this  Journal,  and  then  we  will  talk  of  something 
else." 

"  I  will  drink  that  toast,"  I  said,  "  with  all  rny  heart,  and  now  let 
me  ask  you  how  you  have  succeeded  in  your  mission  about  the 
fisheries  ?" 

*  It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  expression  that  Mr.  Slick's  talk  is  all 
"  pure  down-east  dialect."  The  intermixture  of  Americans  is  now  so  great,  in 
consequence  of  their  steamers  and  railroads,  that  there  is  but  little  pure  pro- 
vincialism left.  They  have  borrowed  from  each  other  in  different  sections  most 
!il>era.!y,  and  not  only  bis  the  vocabulary  of  the  south  and  west  contributed  its 
phraseology  to  New  England,  but  there  is  recently  an  affectation,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  Mexican  war,  to  naturalise  Spanish  words,  some  of  which  Mr 
Slick,  who  delight?  in  this  sort  of  thing,  has  introduced  into  this  Journal.- --F.P 


A.8FRPKI8K.  23 

*•  First  rate,"  he  replied  ;  '•  we  have  them  now,  and  no  mistake !" 

"  By  the  treaty  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  have  discovered  the  dodge,  and  we  shall  avail 
of  it  at  once.  By  a  recent  local  law,  foreigners  can  hold  real 
estate  in  this  province  now.  And  by  a  recent  Act  of  Parliament 
our  vessels  can  obtain  British  registers.  Between  these  two 
privileges,  a  man  don't  deserve  to  be  called  an  American  who 
can't  carry  on  the  fisheries  in  spite  of  all  the  cruisers,  revenue 
officers,  and  prohibitary  laws  under  the  sun.  It  is  a  peaceable  and 
quiet  way  of  getting  possession,  and  far  better  than  fighting  for 
them,  while  it  comports  more  with  the  dignity  of  our  great  and 
enlightened  nation." 

"What  do  you  think,"  I  said,  "of  the  Elgin  treaty  as  a  bar- 
gain r 

After  some  hesitation,  he  looked  up  and  smiled. 

'•  We  can't  complain,"  said  he.  u  As  usual,  we  have  got  hold 
of  the  right  eend  of  the  rope,  and  got  a  vast  deal  more  than  we 
expected.  The  truth  is,  the  English  are  so  fond  of  trade,  and  so 
afraid  of  war,  if  we  will  only  give  them  cotton  and  flour  at  a  fair 
price,  and  take  their  manufactures  in  return,  we  can  bully  them 
into  anythin'  almost.  It  is  a  positive  fact,  there  were  fifty  deserters 
from  the  British  army  taken  off  of  the  wreck  of  the  'San  Fran 
ciseo,'  and  carried  to  England.  John  Bull  pretended  to  wink  at 
it,  hired  a  steamer,  and  sent  them  all  out  again  to  us.  Lord  ! 
Kow  our  folks  roared  when  they  heard  it  ;  and  as  for  the  Presi- 
dent, he  laughed  like  a  h\  en  a  over  a  dead  nigger.  Law  sakes 
alive,  man  !  Make  a  question  between  our  nation  and  England 
about  fifty  desarters,  and  if  the  ministers  of  the  day  only  dared  to 
talk  of  fighting,  the  members  of  all  the  manutactoren  towns  in 
England,  the  cottonocracy  of  Great  Britain,  would  desert  too  ! 

"It's  nateral,  as  an  American,  I  should  be  satisfied  with  the 
treaty  ;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  I  am  sorry  for.  I  am  grieved  we 
asked,  or  your  Governor-General  granted,  a  right  to  us  to  land  on* 
these  shores  and  make  our  fish.  Lord  Elgin  ought  to  have  known 
that  every  foot  of  the  sea-coast  of  Nova  Scotia  has  been  granted, 
and  is  now  private  property. 

"  To  concede  a  privilege  to  land,  with  a  proviso  to  respect  the 
rights  of  the  owner,  is  nonsense.  This  comes  of  not  sending  a 
man  to  negotiate  who  is  chosen  by  the  people,  not  for  his  rank, 
but  for  his  ability  and  knowledge.  The  fact  is,  I  take  blame  to 
myself  about  it,  for  1  was  pumped  who  would  do  best,  and  be 
most  acceptable  to  us  Americans.  1  was  afeared  they  would  send 
a  Billingsgate  contractor,  who  is  a  plaguy  sight  more  posted  up 
about  fisheries  than  any  member  of  parliament,  or  a  clever  colonist, 
(not  a  party-man)  and  they  know  more  than  both  the  others  put 
together  ;  and  I  dreaded  if  ihey  sent  either,  there  would  bo  a  quid 


24  A     SURPRISE. 

l>ru  quo,  as  Josiah  says,  to  be  given,  afore  we  got  the  fisheries,  if 
we  ever  got  them  at  all.  '  So,'  sais  J,  out  of  a  bit  of  fun,  for  I 
can't  help  taken  a  rise  out  of  folks  no  how  J  ^an  fix  it,  '  send  us  a 
lord.  We  are  mighty  fond  of  noblemen  to  Washington,  and 
toady  them  first-rate.  It  will  please  such  a  man  as  Pierce  to  show 
him  so  much  respect  as  to  send  a  peer  to  him.  He  will  get  what- 
ever he  asks.' 

"  Well,  they  fell  into  the  trap  beautiful.  They  sent  us  one,  and 
we  rowed  him  up  to  the  very  head-water?  of  Salt  River  in  no 
time.*  But  I  am  sorry  we  asked  the  privilege  to  land  and  euro 
fish.  I  didn't  think  any  created  critter  wouJU  have  granted  that. 
Yes,  I  foresee  trouble  arising  out  of  this.  Suppose  'Cayenne 
Pepper,'  as  we  call  the  captain  that  commanded  the  'Cayenne'  at 
Grey  Town,  was  to  come  to  a  port  in  Nova  Scotia,  and  pepper  it 
for  insultin'  our  flag  by  apprehenden  trespassers  (though  how  a 
constable  is  to  arrest  a  crew  of  twenty  men,  urhss,  Irishman-like, 
he  surrounds  them,  is  a  mystery  to  me).  Wha*  would  be  done  in 
that  case  1  Neither  you  nor  I  can  tell,  Squire.  But  depend  upon 
it,  there  is  a  tempestical  time  cornin',  and  it  is  as  well  to  be  on 
the  safe  side  of  the  fence  when  there  is  a  chance  o**  kicking  going  on. 

"  The  bombardment  of  Grey  Town  was  the  greatest  and  bravest 
exploit  of  modern  times.  We  silenced  their  g«ins  at  the  first 
broadside,  and  shut  them  up  so  sudden  that  envious  folks,  like  the 
British,  now  swear  they  had  none,  while  we  lost  only  one  man  in 
the  engagement,  but  he  was  drunk  and  fell  overboard.  What  is  the 
cannonade  of  Sebastopool  to  that  1  Why  it  sinks  into  insignificance." 

He  had  hardly  ceased  speaking,  when  the  wheels  of  a  carriage 
were  heard  rapidly  approaching  the  door.  Taking  out  his  watch, 
and  observing  the  hour,  he  said  :  "  Squire,  it  is  now  eleven  o'clock. 
I  must  be  a  movin'.  Good-bye !  I  am  off*  to  Halifax.  I  am 
goin'  to  make  a  night  flight  of  it.  The  wind  is  fair,  and  1  must 
sail  by  daylight  to-morrow  morning.  Farewell !" 

He  then  shook  hands  most  cordially  with  me,  and  said  ;  "  Squire, 
unless  you  feel  inclined  at  some  future  day  to  make  the  tour  of  the 
States  with  me,  or  somethin'  turns  up,  1  am  not  availed  of,  I  an. 
afraid  you  have  seen  the  last  ioi  rnal  of  your  old  friend,  ;  Sam  Slick.'  " 

*  To  row  up  Salt  River  is  a  common  pnrase,  used  generally  to  denote  politi 
cal  defeat.  The  distance  to  which  a  party  is  rowed  up  Salt  River,  depend* 
entirely  upon  the  magnitude  of  the  majority  against  him.  If  the  defeat  la 
overwhelming,  the  unsuccessful  party  is  said  "  to  be  rowed  up  to  the  very  head- 
waters of  Salt  River."  The  phrase  has  its  origin  in  the  fact  that  there  is  a 
small  stream  of  that  name  in  Kentucky,  the  passage  of  which  is  made  difficult 
and  laborious,  as  well  by  its  tortuous  course  as  by  numerous  shallows  and  bars 
The  real  application  of  the  phrase  is  to  the  unhappy  wight  who  propels  the 
boat,  but  politically,  in  slang  usage,  it  means  the  man  rowed  up,  the  passenger 
•—I  INMAN. 


CLITPEKS     AND     STEAMERS. 


CHAPTER   II. 
CLIPPERS   AND    STEAMERS. 

WHOEVER  has  taken  the  trouble  to  read  the  "Wise  Saws"  o 
Mr.  Slick,  will  be  prepared  to  resume  the  thread  of  his  narrative 
without  e\planation,  if,  indeed,  these  unconnected  selections  deserve 
the  appellation.  But  as  this  work  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  many 
people,  who  never  saw  its  predecessor,  it  may  be  necessary  to 
premise  that  our  old  friend  Sam,  having  received  a  commission 
from  the  President  of  tlis  United  States  to  visit  the  coast  of  Nova 
Scotia,  and  report  to  him  fully  on  the  state  of  the  fisheries,  theii 
extent  and  value,  the  manner  in  which  they  were  prosecuted,  and 
he  best  mode  of  obtaining  a  participation  in  them,  he  proceeded 
n  his  cruise  in  a  trading-vessel,  called  the  "Black  Hawk,"  where» 
•>f  Timothy  Cutler  was  mast*  r,  and  Mr.  Eldad  Nickerson  the 
pilot.  The  preceding  volume  contained  his  adventures  at  sea,  and 
in  the  harbors  of  the  province,  to  the  westward  of  Halifax.  The 
present  work  is  devoted  to  his  remarks  on  "  Nature  and  Human 
Nature." 

While  amusing  himself  fishing  within  three  miles  of  the  coast, 
off  La  Haive,  in  contravention  of  the  treaty,  he  narrowly  escaped 
capture  by  the  British  cruizer  "Spitfire,"  commanded  by  Cap- 
tain Stoker.  By  a  skilful  manoeuvre,  he  decoyed  the  man-of-war, 
in  the  eagerness  of  the  chase,  on  to  a  sand-bar,  when  he  dexter- 
ously slipt  through  a  narrow  passage  between  two  islands,  and 
keeping  one  of  them  in  a  line  between  the  "Black  Hawk"  and  her 
pursuer,  so  as  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  her  guns,  he  steered  for  the 
eastern  shore  of  Nova  Scotia,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight  of  the  Isl- 
ands behind  which  his  enemy  lay  embedded  in  the  sand  ;  from 
vhis  point  the  narrative  is  resumed  in  Mr.  Slick's  r  wn  words.* 

"  I  guess,"  said  I,  "  Captain,  the  '  Spitfire'  will  have  to  put  into 
Halifax  to  report  herself,  and  be  surveyed,  so  we  may  pursue  our 
course  in  peace.  But  uiis  '  Black  Hawk '  is  a  doll,  ain't  she  ? 
don't  she  skim  over  the  water  like  a  sea  gull  1  The  truth  is,  Cut- 
ler, when  you  aint  in  a  hurry,  and  want  to  enjoy  yourself  at  sea, 
as  I  always  do,  for  I  am  a  grand  sailor,  give  me  a  clipper.  She  is 
so  light  and  buoyant,  and  the  motion  so  elastic,  it  actilly  exileratea 
your  spirits.  There  is  something  like  life  in  her  gait,  and  you 

*  His  remarks  on  the  fisheries  I  have  wholly  omitted,  for  they  have  now  lost 
iheir  interest.  His  observations  on  "  IS'ature  and  Human  Nature  "  are  ilone 
retained,  a?  they  may  he  said  to  have  a  univer«al  application  —Ed. 


28  CLIPPERS     AND     STEAMERS. 

nave  her  in  hand  like  a  horse,  and  you  fee,  as  if  you  were  her  ma* 
ter,  and  directed  her  movements.  I  ain't  sure  you  don't  seem  as 
if  you  were  part  of  her  yourself.  Then  there  is  room  to  show- 
skill  and  seamanship,  and  if  you  don't  in  reality  go  as  quick  as  a 
steamer,  you  seem  to  go  faster,  if  there  is  no  visible  object  to  mea- 
sure your  speed  by,  and  that  is  something,  for  the  white  foam  on 
the  leeward  side  rushes  by  you  in  rips,  raps,  and  rainbows,  like 
Canadian  rapids. 

"Then  if  she  is  an  atrysilly  *  like  this,  and  she  is  doing  her  pret- 
tiest, and  actilly  laughs  again,  she  is  so  pleased,  why  you  are  sat- 
isfied, for  you  don't  make  the  breeze,  you  take  it  as  you  find  it, 
like  all  other  good  gifts  of  Providence,  and  say,  '  ain't  she  going 
like  wink,  how  she  forges  ahead,  don't  she  ? '  Your  attention  is 
kept  alive,  too,  watchin'  the  wind,  and  trimmin'  sail  to  it  accord- 
ingly, and  the  jolly  '  Oh,  heave  oh,'  of  the  sailors  is  music  one 
loves  to  listen  to,  and  if  you  wish  to  take  a  stretch  for  it  in  your 
cloak  on  deck,  on  the  sunny  or  shady  side  of  the  companion-way, 
the  breeze  whistles  a  nice  soft  lullaby  for  you,  and  you  are  off  in 
the  land  of  Nod  in  no  time." 

"  Dreaming  of  Sophy  Collingwood,"  sais  the  Captain,  "and  the 
«'itch  of  Eskisooney,  eh  ?  " 

"Yes,  dreamin'  of  bright  eyes  and  smilin'  faces,  or  anythin' 
else  that's  near  and  dear,  for  to  my  idea,  the  heart  gives  the  sub- 
ject for  the  head  to  think  upon.  In  a  fair  wind,  and  a  charm  in' 
day  like  this,  1  never  coiled  up  on  the  deck  for  a  nap  in  my  life, 
that  1  hadn't  pleasant  dreams.  You  feel  as  if  you  were  at  peace 
with  all  the  world  in  general,  and  yourself  in  partikeler,  and  that 
it  is  very  polite  of  folks  to  stay  to  home  ashore,  and  let  you  and 
yonr  friends  enjoy  yourselves  without  treadin' on  your  toes,  and 
wakin'  of  you  up,  if  asleep,  or  a  jostlin'  of  you  in  your  turn  on 
the  quarter-deck,  or  overhearm'  your  conversation. 

"  And  ain't  you  always  ready  for  your  meals,  and  don't  you 
walk  into  them  in  rael  right  down  earnest  1  Oh,  nothing  ever 
tastes  so  good  to  me  as  it  does  at  sea.  The  appetite,  like  a  sharp 
knife,  makes  the  meat  seem  tender,  and  the  sea  air  is  a  great  friend 
of  digestion,  and  always  keeps  company  with  it.  Then  you  don't 
care  to  sit  and  drink  after  dinner  as  you  do  at  an  hotel  of  an  idle 
clay,  for  you  want  to  go  on  deck,  light  your  cigar,  take  a  sweep  round 
the  horizon  with  your  glass,  to  see  if  there  is  any  sad  in  sight, 
glance  at  the  sky  to  ascertain  if  the  breeze  is  likely  to  hold,  and 
then  bring  yourself  to  anchor  on  a  seat,  and  have  a  dish  of  chat  for 
a  dessert  with  the  Captain,  if  he  is  a  man  of  books  like  you,  Cut- 

*  The  Atricilla,  or  laughing  sea-gull.     Its  note  resembles  a  coarse  laugh 
Hence  its  name.     It  is  very  common  in  the  Bahamas. 


CLIPPERS     AND     STEAMERS.  27 

ler.  or  a  man  of  reefs,  rocits  and  sandbars,  fish,  eordwood  and 
smuggling  or  collisions,  wracks  and  salvage,  like  the  pilot. 

"Then,  if  you  have  a  decent  sample  or  two  of  passengers  on 
board,  you  can  discuss  men  and  things,  women  and  nothings,  law, 
physick  and  divinity,  or  that  endless,  tangled  ball  of  yarn,  politicks, 
or  you  can  swap  anecdotes,  and  make  your  fortune  in  the  trade. 
And  by  the  same  trail  of  thought  we  must  give  one  or  two  of 
these  Blue-Noses  now  and  then  a  cast  on  board  with  us  to  draw 
them  out.  Well,  if  you  want  to  read,  you  can  go  and  turn  in,  and 
take  a  book,  and  solitudinise  to  it,  and  there  is  no  one  to  disturb 
you.  I  actilly  learned  French  in  a  voyage  to  Calcutta,  and  Ger- 
man on  my  way  home.  I  got  enough  for  common  use.  It  warn't 
all  pure  gold  ;  but  it  was  kind  of  small  change,  and  answered 
every  purpose  of  trade  or  travel.  Oh,  it's  no  use  a  talkin' ;  where 
time  ain't  the  main  object,  there's  nothing'  like  a  sailin'  vessel  to  a 
man  who  ain't  sea-sick,  and  such  fellows  ought  to  be  cloriformed, 
put  to  bed,  and  left  there  till  the  voyage  is  over.  They  have  no 
business  to  go  to  sea,  if  they  are  such  fools  as  not  to  know  how  to 
enjoy  themselves. 

"  Then  sailors  are  characters ;  they  are  men  of  the  world,  there 
is  great  self-reliance  in  them.  They  have  to  fight  their  way  in  life 
through  many  trials  and  difficulties,  and  their  trust  is  in  God  and 
their  own  strong  arm.  They  are  so  much  in  their  own  element, 
they  seem  as  if  they  were  born  on  the  sea,  cradled  on  its  billows, 
and  like  Mother  Carey's  chickens,  delighted  in  its  storms  and 
mountain  waves.  They  walk,  talk,  and  dress  differently  from  lands- 
men. They  straddle  as  they  pace  the  deck,  so  as  to  brace  the 
body,  and  keep  their  trowsers  up  at  the  same  time ;  their  gait  is 
loose,  and  their  dress  loose,  and  their  limbs  loose ;  indeed,  they  are 
rather  too  fond  of  slack.  They  climb  like  monkeys,  and  depend 
more  on  their  paws  than  their  legs.  They  tumble  up,  but  never 
down.  They  count,  not  by  fingers,  it  is  tedious,  but  by  hands ; 
they  put  a  part  for  the  whole,  and  call  themselves  hands,  for  they 
are  paid  for  the  use  of  them,  and  not  their  heads. 

"  Though  they  are  two-handed,  they  are  not  close-fisted  fellows. 
They  despise  science,  but  are  fond  of  practical  knowledge.  When 
the  sun  is  over  the  foreyard,  they  know  the  time  of  day  as  well 
as  the  captain,  and  call  for  their  grog,  and  when  they  lay  back  their 
heads,  and  turn  up  the  bottom  of  the  mug  to  the  sky,  they  call  it 
in  derision  taking  an  observation.  But  though  they  have  many 
characteristics  in  common,  there  is  an  individuality  in  each  that  dis- 
tinguishes  him  from  the  rest.  He  stands  out  in  bold  relief— 1  by 
m\>elf,  I.  He  feels  and  appreciates  his  importance.  He  knows 
no  plural.  The  word  '  our '  belongs  to  landsmen  ;  '  my  '  is  the  sail- 
or's phrase --my  ship,  my  captain,  my  messmate,  my  watch  on 
deck,  'my  eyes!  'you  lubber,  don't  you  know  that's  me  ?'  1  lil-.« 


28  CLIPPERS     AND     STEAMERS. 

to  listen  to  their  yarns,  and  their  jokes,  and  to  hear  them  sing  their 
simple  ditties.  The  odd  mixture  of  manliness  and  childishness— 
of  boldness  and  superstitious  fears ;  of  preposterous  claims  for 
wages  and  thoughtless  extravagance ;  of  obedience  and  discontent, 
all  goes  to  make  the  queer  compound  called  '  Jack.'  How  often 
have  I  laughed  over  the  fun  of  the  forecastle  in  these  small  fore  and 
aft  packets  of  ourn  !  and  I  think  I  would  back  that  place  for  wit 
against  any  bar-room  in  New  York  or  New  Orleans,  and  I  believe 
they  take  the  rag  off  of  all  creation. 

"  But  the  cook  is  my  favorite.  He  is  a  scientific  man,  and  so 
skilful  in  compounds,  he  generally  goes  by  the  name  of  doctor. 
I  like  the  daily  consultation  with  him  about  dinner,  not  that  I  am 
an  epicure ;  but  at  sea,  as  the  business  of  life  is  eating,  it  is  as 
well  to  be  master  of  one's  calling.  Indeed,  it  appears  to  be  a  law 
of  nature,  that  those  who  have  mouths  should  understand  what  to 
put  in  them.  It  gratifies  the  doctor  to  confer  with  him,  and  who 
does  it  not  please  to  be  considered  a  man  of  importance  ?  He  is. 
therefore,  a  member  of  the  Privy  Council,  and  a  more  useful 
member  he  is  too,  than  many  Right  Honorables  I  know  of— who 
have  more  acres  than  ideas.  The  Board  assembles  after  breakfast, 
f.nd  a  new  dish  is  a  great  item  in  the  budget.  It  keeps  people  in 
good  humor  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  affords  topics  for  the  table. 
To  eat  to  support  existence  is  only  fit  for  criminals.  Bread  and 
water  will  do  that ;  but  to  support  and  gratify  nature,  at  the  same 
time,  is  a  noble  effort  of  art,  and  well  deserves  the  thanks  of  man 
kind.  The  cook,  too,  enlivens  the  consultation  by  telling  marvel- 
lous stories  about  strange  dishes  he  has  seen.  He  has  eaten  ser- 
pents with  the  Siamese  monkeys  in  the  West  Indies,  crocodiles  and 
sloths  in  South  America,  and  cats,  rats,  and  dogs  with  the  Chinese; 
and,  of  course,  as  nobody  can  contradict  him,  says  they  are  deli- 
cious. Like  a  salmon,  you  must  give  him  the  line  even  if  it  wea- 
ries you,  before  you  bag  him  ;  but  when  you  do  bring  him  to  land, 
his  dishes  are  savory.  They  have  a  relish  that  is  peculiar  to  the 
sea,  for  where  there  is  no  garden,  vegetables  are  always  most  prized. 
The  glorious  onion  is  duly  valued,  for  as  there  is  no  mistress  to  be 
kissed,  who  will  dare  to  object  to  its  aroma? 

"  Then  I  like  a  Sunday  at  sea  in  a  vessel  like  this,  and  a  day  like 
this,  when  the  men  are  all  clean  and  tidy,  and  the  bell  rings  for 
prayers,  and  all  hands  are  assembled  aft,  to  listen  to  the  captain  as 
he  reads  the  Church  Service.  It  seems  like  a  family  scene.  It 
reminds  me  of  dear  old  Minister  and  days  gone  by,  when  he  used 
to  call  us  round  him,  and  repeated  to  us  the  promise  '  that  when 
two  or  three  were  gathered  together  in  God's  name,  he  would 
grant  their  request.'  The  only  difference  is,  sailors  are  more  atten- 
tive and  devout  than  landsmen.  They  seem  more  conscious  that 
they  are  in  the  Divine  presence.  They  have  little  to  look  upo» 


CLIPPERS     AND     STEAMERS.  29 

hut  the  heavens  above  and  the  boundless  ocean  around  them. 
Both  seem  made  on  purpose  for  them — the  sun  to  guide  them  by 
day,  and  the  stars  by  night,  the  sea  to  bear  them  on  its  bosom,  and 
the  breeze  to  waft  them  on  their  course.  They  feel  how  powerless 
they  are  of  themselves;  how  frail  iheir  bark  ;  how  dependent  they 
are  on  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  their  Creator,  and  that  it  is  He 
alone  who  can  rule  the  tempest  and  control  the  stormy  deep. 
Thi-ir  impressions  are  few,  but  they  are  strong.  It  is  the  world 
that  hardens  the  heart,  and  the  ocean  seems  apart  from  it. 

"  They  are  noble  fellows,  sailors,  and  I  love  them  ;  but,  Cutler, 
how  are  they  used,  especially  where  they  ought  to  be  treated  best, 
on  board  of  men-of-war  ?  The  moment  a  ship  arrives  in  port,  the 
anchor  cast  and  the  sails  furled  — what  does  the  Captain  do?  the 
popular  Captain,  too,  the  idol  of  the  men  ;  he  who  is  so  kind,  and 
so  fond  of  them?  Why,  he  calls  them  aft,  and  says,  'Here,  my 
lads,  here  is  lots  of  cash  for  you,  now  be  oiF  ashore  and  enjoy 
yourselves.'  And  they  give  three  cheers  for  their-  noble  com- 
mander—their good-hearted  officer— the  sailor's  friend  — the  jolly 
old  blue  jacket,  and  they  bundle  into  the  boats,  and  on  to  the 
beach,  like  school-boys.  And  where  do  they  go  ?  Well,  we  won't 
follow  them,  for  I  never  was  in  them  places  where  they  do  go,  and 
BO  I  can't  describe  them,  and  one  thing  I  must  say,  I  never  yet 
found  any  place  answer  the  picture  drawn  of  it.  But  if  half  only 
of  the  accounts  are  true  that  I  have  heerd  of  them,  they  must  be 
the  devn's  own  seminaries  of  vice  — that's  a  fact.  Every  mite  and 
morsel  as  bad  as  the  barrack  scenes  that  we  read  of  lately. 

"  Well,  at  the  end  of  a  week,  back  come  the  sailors.     They 

ave  had  a  glorious  lark  and  enjoyed  themselves  beyond  anything 

11  the  world,  for  they  are  pale,  sick,  sleepy,  tired  out,  cleaned  out, 

and   kicked  out,  with  black  eyes,  broken  heads,  swelled  cheeks, 

minus  a  few  teeth,  half  their  clothes,  and  all  their  money. 

"  '  What,'  says  the  Captain,  'what's  the  matter  with  you,  Tom 
Marl  in,  that  you  limp  so  like  a  lame  duck  ?' 

'• '  Nothing,  your  honor,'  says  Tom,  twitching  his  forelock,  and 
making  a  scrape  with  his  hind  leg,  '  nothing,  your  honor,  but  a 
scratch  from  a  bagganet.' 

"  '  What !  a  fight  with  the  soldiers,  eh  ?  The  cowardly  rascals 
to  use  their  side-arms  ! ' 

"  We  cleared  the  house  of  them,  Sir,  in  no  time.' 

"  '  That's  right.  Now  go  below,  my  lads,  and  turn  in,  and  get  a 
good  sleep.  I  like  to  see  my  lambs  enjoy  themselves.  -  It  does  my 
heart  good.' 

"  And  yet,  Cutler,  that  man  is  said  to  be  a  father  to  his  crew." 

*•  Slick."  said  Cutler,  "  what  a  pity  it  is  you  wouldn't  always  talk 
that  way  !  Now  if  there  is  any  created  thing  that  makes  me  mad, 
it  is  to  have  a  feller  look  admiren  at  me,  when  1  utter  a  piece  of  plain 


80  CLIPPER  8     A  N  L>     STEAMERS. 

common  sense  like  that,  and  turn  up  the  whites  of. his  eyes  like  a 
duck  in  thunder,  as  much  as  to  say,  what  a  pity  it  is  you  weren't 
broughten  up  a  preacher.  It  ryles  me  considerable,  I  tell  you." 

"  Cutler,"  I  said,  "  did  you  ever  see  a  colt  in  a  pasture,  how  he 
would  race  and  chase  round  the  field,  head,  ears  and  tail  up,  and 
stop  short,  snort  as  if  he  had  seen  the  ghost  of  a  bridle,  and  off 
ag;tin  hot  foot  1 " 

'•Yes,"  said  he,  "I  have;  but  you  are  not  a  colt,  nor  a  boy 
either." 

"  Well,  did  you  ever  see  a  horse  when  unharnessed  from  a  little 
light  wagon,  and  turned  out  to  grass,  do  nearly  the  same  identical 
thing,  and  kick  up  his  heels  like  mad,  as  much  as  to  say,  1  am  a 
free  nigger  now  ?" 

"  Well,  I  have,"  said  he. 

"Stop,"  said  I,  a  touchin' of  him  on  his 'aim;  "what  in  the 
world  is  that]"  and  I  pointed  over  the  tafFrail  to  the  weather-bow. 

"  Porpoises,"  said  he. 

"  What  are  they  a  doin'  of?" 

''  Sportin'  of  themselves." 

"Exactly,"  sais  I,  "and  do  you  place  man  below  the  beasts  of 

the  field,  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea  ]     What  in   natur' was  humor 

given  to  us  for,  but  for  our  divarsion?      What  sort  of  a  world 

Vould  this  be  if  every  fellow  spoke  sermons  and   talked   homilies, 

•nd  what  in  that  case  would  parsons  do  ?     I    leave  you  to  cypher 

hat  out,  and  then  prove  it  by  algebra;  but  I'll  tell  you  what  they 

vouldn't  do,  I'll  be  hanged  if  they'd  strike  for  higher  wages,  for 

ear  they  should  not  get  any  at  all."' 

"  I  knock  under,"  said  he  ;  "  you  may  take  my  hat ;  now  go  on 
and  finish  the.  comparison  between  Clippers  and  Steamers." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "as  I  was  a  say  in',  Captain,  give  me  a  craft  like 
this,  that  spreads  its  wings  like  a  bird,  and  looks  as  if  it  was  born, 
not  made,  a  whole-sail  breeze,  and  a  seaman  every  inch  of  him  like 
you  on  the  deck,  who  looks  you  in  the  face,  in  a  way  as  if  he'd 
like  to  say,  only  bragging  ain't  genteel,  ain't  she  a  clipper  now, 
and  ain't  I  the  man  to  handle  her  1  Now  this  ain't  the  ease  in  a 
steamer.  They  ain't  vessels,  they  are  more  like  floating  factories ; 
you  see  the  steam  machines  and  the  enormous  fires,  and  the  clouds 
of  smoke,  but  you  don't  visit  the  rooms  where  the  looms  are.  that's 
all.  They  plough  through  the  sea  dead  and  heavy,  like  a  subsoiler 
with  its  eight  horse  team  ;  there  is  no  life  in  'em  ;  they  can't  dance 
on  the  waters  as  if  they  rejoiced  in  their  course,  but  divide  the 
•waves  as  a  rock  does  in  a  river  ;  they  seem  to  move  more  in  dc.fi 
unce  of  the  sea,  than  as  if  they  were  in  an  element  of  their  own 

"  They  puff"  and  blow  like  boasters  braggin' that  they  extract 
from  the  ocean  the  means  to  make  it  help  to  subdue  itself.  It  is  a 
war  of  the  elements,  fire  and  water  contendin'  for  victory.  They 


AND     S  T  K  A  M  K  It  S  .  31 


»re  black,  dingy,  forbiddin'  looking  sea  monsters.  It  is  no 
the  superstitious  Spaniard,  when  he  first  saw  one,  said:  *A  vessel 
that  goes  against  the  tide,  and  against  the  wind,  and  without  sails, 
goes  against  God,'  or  that  the  simple  negro  thought  it  was  a  sea 
devil.  They  are  very  well  for  carrying  freight,  because  they  are 
beasts  of  burden,  but  not  for  carrying  travellers,  unless  they  are 
mere  birds  of  passage  like  our  Yankee  tourists,  who  want  to  have 
it  to  say  I  was  '  thar?  1  hate  them.  The  decks  are  dirty  ;  your 
skin  and  clothes  are  dirty  ;  and  your  lungs  become  foul  ;  smoke 
pervades  everything  and  now  and  then  the  condensation  gives  you 
a  shower  of  sooty  water  by  way  of  variety,  that  scalds  your  face, 
and  dyes  your  coat  into  a  sort  of  pepper-and-salt  color. 

"  You  miss  the  sailors,  too.  There  are  none  on  board  —  you  miss 
the  nice  light,  tight-built,  lathy,  wiry,  active,  neat  jolly  crew.  In 
their  place  you  have  nasty,  dirty,  horrid  stokers;  some  hoisting 
hot  cinders,  and  throwing  them  overboard,  (not  w<th  the  merry 
countenances  of  niggers,  or  the  cheerful  sway-away-my-boys 
expression  of  the  Jack  Tar,  but  with  sour,  caineroneau-lookin* 
faces,  that  seem  as  if  they  were  dreadfully  disappointed  they  were 
not  persecuted  any  longer  —  had  no  churches  and  altars  to  desecrate, 
and  no  bishops  to  anoint  with  the  oil  of  hill-side  maledictions  as  of 
old)  while  others  are  emerging  from  the  fiery  furnaces  beneath  fur 
fresh  air,  and  wipe  a  hot,  dirty  face  with  a  still  dirtier  shirt  sleeve, 
and  in  return  for  the  nauseous  exudation,  lay  on  a  fresh  coat  of 
blacking,  tall,  gaunt  wretches,  who  pant  for  breath  as  they  snuff 
the  fresh  breeze,  like  porpouses,  and  then  dive  again  into  the  lower 
regions.  They  are  neither  seamen  nor  landsmen,  good  whips,  nor 
decent  shots,  their  hair  is  not  woolly  enough  for  niggers,  and  their 
fiices  are  too  black  for  white  men.  They  ain't  amphibious  animals, 
like  marines,  and  otters.  They  are  Salamanders.  But  that's  a 
long  word,  and  now  they  call  them  stokers  for  shortness. 

"  Then  steamers  carry  a  mob,  and  1  detest  mobs,  especially  such 
ones  as  •  they  delight  in  —  greasy  Jews,  hairy  Germans,  Mulatto- 
looking  Italians,  squalling  children,  that  run  between  your  legs  and 
throw  you  down,  or  wipe  the  butter  off  their  bread  on  your  clothes  ; 
Englishmen  that  will  grumble,  and  Irishmen  that  will  fight;  priest* 
that  won't  talk,  and  preachers  that  will  harangue  ;  women  that  will 
be  carried  about,  because  they  won't  lie  still  and  be  quiet;  silk 
men,  cotton  men,  bonnet  men,  iron  men,  trinket  men,  and  every 
sort  of  shopmen,  who  severally  know  nothing  in  the  world  but 
silk,  cotton,  bonnets,  iron,  trinkets,  and  so  on,  and  can't  talk  of  an'-- 
thin'else;  fellows  who  walk  up  and  down  the  deck,  four  or  five 
abreast  when  there  are  four  or  five  of  the  same  craft  on  board,  an  J 
prevent  any  one  else  from  promenadiu',  by  sweepin'  '.he  whcl* 
space,  while  ever)  lurch  the  ship  gives,  one  of  them  tumbles  au  f 
of  you,  or  treads  on  your  toes,  and  then,  instead  of  apologisip', 


C  L IPTEK8     AMD 

tunis  round  and  abuses  you  like  a  pick-pocket  forslickin'  your  feet 
out  and  trippin'  people  up.  Thinkin'  is  out  of  the  question,  and  as 
for  readin',  you  might  as  well  read  your  fortune  in  the  stars. 

"Just  as  you  begin,  that  lovely-lookin',  rosy -cheeked,  wicked- 
eyed  gall,  that  came  on  board  so  full  of  health  find  spirits,  but  now 
looks  like  a  faded,  striped  ribbon,  white,  yeller,  pink,  and  brown — 
dappled  all  over  her  face,  but  her  nose,  which  has  a  red  spot  on  it 
— lifts  up  a  pair  of  lack-lustre  peepers  that  look  glazed  like  the 
round,  dull  ground  glass  lights  l<jt  into  the  deck,  suddenly  wakes 
up  squeamish,  and  says,  '  Please,  Sir,  help  me  down  ;  1  feel  so  ill.' 
•Well,  you  take  her  up  in  your  arms,  and  for  the  first  time  in  your 
life,  hold  her  head  from  you,  for  fear  she  will  reward  you  in  a  way 
that  ain't  no  matter,  and  she  feels  as  soft  as  dough,  and  it  seems  as 
if  your  fingers  left  dents  in  her  putty-like  arms,  and  you  carry  her 
to  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  call  out  for  the  stewardess,  and  a 
waiter  answers,  "  Stewardess  is  tight,  Sir.' 

"'1  am  glad  of  it,  she  is  just  the  person  I  want.  I  wish  all  the 
other  passengers  were  tight  also.' 

"  '  Lord,  Sir,  that  ain't  it — she  is  mops  and  brooms.' 

"  '  Mops  and  brooms,  I  suppose  she  is,  she  must  have  plenty  use 
for  them,  1  reckon,  to  keep  all  snug  and  tidy  down  there.' 

"  Good  gracious,  Sir,  don't  you  understand,  she  is  half  seas 
over.' 

"'True,  so  we  all  are,  the  captain  said  so  to-day  at  twelve 
o'clock.  1  wish  we  were  over  altogether.  Send  her  up.' 

"  '  No,  no,  Sir,  she  is  more  than  half  shaved.' 

"  'The  devil  !  does  she  shave  1  1  don't  believe  she  is  a  woman 
at  all.  1  see  how  it  is,  you  have  been  putting  one  of  the  sailers 
into  petticoats.'  And  the  idea  makes  even  the  invalid  gall  laugh. 

"  No,  no,  Sir,  she  is  tipsy.' 

"  '  Then  why  the  plague  couldn't  you  say  so  at  once.  1  guess 
you  kinder  pride  yourself  in  your  slang.  Help  me  to  assist  this 
lady  down  to  her  friends.' 

'•  Well,  when  you  return  on  deck,  lo  and  behold,  your  seat  is 
occupied,  and  you  must  go  and  stand  by  the  rail  till  one  is  vacant, 
when  another  gall  that  ain't  ill,  but  inconveniently  well,  she  is  so 
full  of  chat,  says,  '  Look,  look.  Sir,  dear  me,  what  is  that,  Sir  ?  r> 
porpoise.  Why  you  don't,  did  you  ever!  well,  I  never  see  a  p<>r 
poise  afore  in  all  my  born  days  !  are  they  good  to  eat,  Sir?  ' 

•' '  Excellent  food  for  whales,  Miss.' 

"  'Well  1  never  !  do  they  swallow  them  right  down  1 ' 

*' '  1  guess  they  do,  tank,  shank  and  flank,  at  one  gulp.' 

"'Why  how  in  the  world  do  they  ever  gtt — '  but  she  don't 
finish  the  sentence,  for  the  silk  man,  cotton  man,  iron  man  or  trin- 
ket nian,  whichever  is  nearest,  says,  '  There  is  a  ship  on  the  Jen- 


CLIPPERS     AND     STEAMERS.  83 

He  says  that  because  it  sounds  sailor-like,  but  it  happens 
to  tie  the  weather-bow,  and  you  have  seen  her  an  hour  before. 

"  '  Can  you  make  her  out  ? '  sais  he,  that's  another  sea  tann  ha 
has  picked  up;  he  will  talk  like  a  horse-marine  at  last. 

"  '  Yes,'  sais  you,  '  she  is  a  Qoang-Tonger.1 

" '  A  Quang-Tonger  1 '  sais  the  gall,  and  before  the  old  coon  has 
digested  that  hard  word,  she  asks,  '  what  in  natur  is  that?  ' 

" '  Why,  Miss,  Quang-Tong  is  a  province  of  China,  and  Canton 
is  the  capital ;  all  the  vessels  at  Canton  are  called  Quang-Tongers 
but  strangers  call  them  Chinese  Junks. 

"  Now,  Miss,  you  have  seen  two  new  things  to-day,  a  bottle- 
iiosed  porpoise  and — ' 

"  '  Was  that  a  bottle-nosed  porpoise,  Sir  ?  why  you  don't  say 
BO  !  why,  how  you  talk,  why  do  they  call  them  bottle-noses  ?  ' 

"  Because,  Miss,  they  make  what  is  called  velvet  corks  out  of 
their  snouts.  They  are  reckoned  the  best  corks  in  the  world,  and 
then.  '  you  have  seen  a  Chinese  Junk  ? 

"  '  A  Chinese  Junk,'  sais  the  astonished  trinket  man,  '  well  I 
vow!'  'a  Chinese  Junk,  do  tell!'  and  one  gall  calls  Jeremiah 
Dodge,  and  the  other  her  father  and  her  sister,  Mary  Anne  Matilda 
Jane,  to  come  and  see  the  Chinese  Junk,  and  all  the  passengers 
rush  to  the  other  side,  and  say  ;  '  whare  whare,'  and  the  two  discov- 
erers say  :  'there  there 'and  you  walk  across  the  deck  and  take 
one  of  the  evacuated  seats  you  have  been  longin'  for ;  and  as  you 
pass,  you  give  a  wink  to  the  officer  of  the  deck,  who  puts  his 
tongu-i  in  his  cheek  as  a  token  of  approbation,  and  you  begin  to 
raad  again,  as  you  fancy,  in  peace. 

^"  Put,  there  is  no  peace  in  a  steamer,  it  is  nothin'  but  a  large 
calaboose,*  chock  full  of  prisoners.  As  soon  as  you  have  found 
your  place  in  the  book,  and  taken  a  fresh  departure,  the  bonnet  map 
sais,  '  please,  sir,  a  seat  for  a  lady,'  and  you  have  to  get  up  anc 
give  it  to  his  wife's  lady's-maid.  His  wife  ain't  a  lady,  but  having 
a  lady's  maid,  shows  she  intends  to  set  up  for  one  when  she  gets  tc 
home.  To  be  a  lady,  she  must  lay  in  a  lot  of  airs,  and  to  brusb 
her  own  hair,  and  g.irter  her  own  stockins,  is  vulgar ;  if  it  was 
known  in  first  Avenue,  Spruce-street,  in  Bonnetville,  it  would 
ruin  her  as  a  woman  of  fashion,  forever. 

"  Now,  bonnet  man  wouldn't  ask  you  to  get  up  and  give  youi 
place  to  his  wife's  hired  help,  only  he  knows  you  are  a  Yankee,  ana 
we  Yankees,  1  must  say,  are  regularly  fooled  with  women  and 
preachers  ;  just  as  much  as  that  walking  advertisement  of  a  mili- 
ner  is  with  her  lady's-maid.  All  over  America  in  rail  carriages, 
stage  coaches,  river  steamers  and  public  places  of  all  sorts,  every 
critter  that  w.iars  a  white  choker,  and  looks  like  a  minister,  has 

*  Calaboose  is  a  Southern  nime  ff.r  jail. 


34  CLIPPERS     AND     STEAMERS. 

the  best  seat  given  him.  He  expects  it,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
as  every  female  is  a  lady,  every  woman  h;u  a  right  to  ask  you 
to  quit,  without  notice,  for  her  accommodation.  Now,  it's  all  very 
well,  and  very  proper  to  be  respectful  to  preachers;  and  to  be 
polite  and  courteous  to  women,  and  more  especially  those  that 
are  unprotected,  but  there  is  a  limit,  tother  side  of  which  lies 
absurdity. 

*•  Now,  if  you  had  seen  as  much  of  the  world  as  I  have,  and 
many  other  travelled  Yankees,  when  bonnet  man  asked  you  to 
give  up  your  seat  to  the  maid,  you  would  have  pretended  not  to 
understand  English,  and  not  to  know  what  he  wanted,  but  would 
have  answered  him  in  French  and  offered  him  the  hook,  and  said 
certainly  you  would  give  it  to  him  with  pleasure,  and  when  ha  said 
he  didn't  speak  French,  but  what  he  desired,  was  your  place  for 
the  lady,  you  would  have  addressed  her  in  German,  and  offered 
her  the  book,  and  when  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  laughed  at 
their  blunder,  in  thus  taking  you  for  a  Yankee,  perhaps  the  man 
next  to  you  would  have  offered  his  seat,  and  then  when  old  bonnet 
man  walked  off*  to  look  at  the  Chinese  Junk,  you  would  have 
entered  into  conversation  with  the  lady's  maid,  and  told  her  it  was 
a  rise  you  took  out  of  the  old  fellow  to  get  her  along  side  of  you, 
and  she  would  enjoy  the  joke,  and  you  would  have  found  her  a 
thousand  times  more  handsome,  and  more  conversational  and 
agreeable  than  her  mistress. 

"  But  this  wouldn't  last  long,  for  the  sick  gall  would  be  carried 
up  on  deck  agin,  woman  like,  though  ill,  very  restless,  and  chock 
full  of  curiosity  to  see  the  Chinese  Junk  also;  so  you  are  caught 
by  your  own  bim,  and  have  to  move  again  once  more.  The  bell 
comes  in  aid,  and  summons  you  to  dinner.  Ah,  the  scene  in  the 
Tower  of  Babel  is  rehearsed  !  what  a  confusion  of  tongues!  what  a 
clatter  of  knives  and  forks  and  dishes  !  the  waiter  th  it  goes  and 
woru't  come  back  ;  and  he  who  sees,  pities  but  can't  help  you  ;  and 
he  who  is  so  near  sighted,  he  can't  hear ;  and  he  who  is  inter- 
cepted, and  made  prisoner  on  his  way. 

"  What  a  profusion  of  viands — but  how  little  to  eat!  this  is 
cold;  that  underdone;  this  is  tough;  that  you  never  eat;  while 
all  smell  oily,  oh,  the  only  dish  you  did  fancy,  you  can't  touch,  for 
that  horrid  German  has  put  his  hand  into  it.  But  it  is  all  told  in 
one  short  sentence ;  two  hundred  and  fifty  passengers  supply  two 
hundred  and  fifty  reasons  themselves,  why  I  should  prefer  a  sailing 
vessel  with  a  small  party  to  a  cr  >wded  steamer.  If  you  want  to 
see  them  in  perfection,  go  where  I  have  been  it  on  board  the  Cali- 
fornia boats  and  Mississippi  river  crafts.  The  French,  Austrian 
and  Italian  boats  are  as  bad.  The  two  great  Ocean  lines,  Ameri- 
can and  English  are  as  good  as  anything  bad  can  be,  but  the  others 
are  all  abominable.  They  are  small  worlds  over  crow JbJ,  and 


CLIPPERS     AX  DSTKAMK  US.  35 

Trhile  these,  small  worlds  exist,  the  evil  will  remain  ;  for  alas,  their 
passengers  go  backward  and  forward,  they  don't  emigrate — they 
migrate ;  they  go  for  the  winter  and  return  for  the  spring,  or  go 
in  the  spring  and  return  in  the  fall. 

"  Come,  Commodore,  there  is  old  Sorrow  ringing  his  merry  bell 
for  us  to  go  to  dinner.  1  have  an  idea  we  shall  h:ive  ample 
room;  a  good  appetite,  and  time  enough  to  eat  and  enjoy  it; 
come  sir,  let  us,  like  true  Americans,  never  refuse  to  go  where 
duty  calls  us." 

After  dinner,  Cutler  reverted  to  the  conversation  we  had  had 
before  we  went  below,  though  I  don't  know  that  I  should  call  it 
conversation  either ;  for  1  believe  I  did,  as  usual,  most  of  the  talk- 
ing myself. 

"  '  I  agree  with  you,'  said  he,  '  in  your  comparative  estimate  of 
a  sailing  vessel  and  a  steamer ;  I  like  the  former  the  best  myself. 
It  is  more  agreeable  for  the  reasons  you  have  stated  to  a  passenger, 
but  it  is  still  more  agreeable  to  the  officer  in  command  of  her  on 
another  account.  In  a  sailing  vessel,  all  your  work  is  on  deck, 
everything  is  before  you,  and  everybody  under  your  command. 
One  glance  of  a  seaman's  eye  is  sufficient  to  detect  if  anything  is 
amiss,  and  no  one  man  is  indispensable  to  you.  In  a  steamer  the 
work  is  all  below,  the  machinery  is  out  of  your  sight,  complicated, 
and  one  part  dependent  on  another.  If  it  gets  out  of  order,  you 
are  brought  up  with  a  round  turn,  all  standing,  and  often  in  a 
critical  situation  too.  You  can't  repair  damage  easily  ;  sometimes 
can't  repair  at  all. 

"  Whereas  carrying  away  a  sail,  a  spar,  a  topmast,  or  anything 
ot  that  kind,  impedes,  but  don't  stop  you,  and  if  it  is  anything 
very  serious,  there  are  a  thousand  wavs  of  making  a  temporary 
rig  that  will  answer  till  you  make  a  port.  But  what  I  like  best  is, 
when  my  ship  is  in  the  daldrums,  I  am  equal  to  the  emergency ; 
there  is  no  engineer  to  bother  you  by  saying,  this  can't  be  done, 
or  that  won't  do,  and  to  stand  jawing  and  arguing  instead  of  obey- 
ing and  doing.  Clippers  of  the  right  lines,  size  and  build,  well 
found,  manned  and  commanded,  will  make  nearly  as  good  work 
in  ordinary  times,  as  steamers.  Perhaps  it  is  prejudice  though 
for  I  believe  we  sailors  are  proverbial  for  that.  But,  Slick,  recol 
lect  it  ain't  all  fair  weather  sailing  like  this  at  sea.  There  ar 
times  when  death  stares  you  wildly  in  the  face.' 

'"Exactly,"  sais  I,  'as  if  he  would  like  to  know  you  the  next 
time  he  came  for  you,  so  as  not  to  apprehend  the  wrong  one.  He 
often  leaves  the  rascal  and  seizes  the  honest  man ;  my  opinion  is, 
he  don't  see  very  well.' 

" '  What  a  droll  fellow  you  are,'  said  he ;  'it  appears  to  me  as  if 
you  couldn't  be  serious  for  five  minutes  at  a  time.  I  can  tell  you, 
if  you  were  on  a  rocky  lea-shore,  with  the  wind  and  waves  urging 


36  CLIPPERS     AND     ssTEAMKliB. 

you  on,  and  you  barely  holding  your  own,  perhaps  losing  ground 
every  tack,  you  wouldn't  talk  quite  so  glibly  of  death.  Was  you 
ever  in  a  real  heavy  gale  of  wind  ?' 

"  '  VVarn't  I,'  said  I ;  'the  fust  time  I  returned  from  England,  it 
blew  great  guns  all  the  voyage,  one  gale  after  another,  and  the  last 
always  wuss  than  the  one  before.  It  carried  away  our  sails  as  fast 
as  we  bent  them.' 

'•'That's  nothing  unusual,'  said  Cutler;  'there  are  worse  things 
ban  that  at  sea.' 

"'"Well,  I'll  tell  you,'  sais  I,  'what  it  did;  and  if  that  ain't  an 
uncommon  thing,  then  my  name  aint  Sam  Slick.  It  blew  all  the 
hair  off  my  dog,  except  a  little  tuft  atween  his  ears.  It  did,  upon 
my  soul.  I  hope  I  may  never  leave " 

"  '  Don't  swear  to  it,  Slick,'  said  he,  '  that's  a  good  fellow.  It's 
impossible.' 

" '  Attestin'  to  it  will  make  your  hair  stand  on  eend  too,  I  sup 
pose,'  said  1 ;  'but  it's  as  true  as  preachin'  for  all  that.  \Yhat  will 
you  bet  it  didn't  happen  ?' 

" '  Tut.  man ;  nonsense,'  said  he ;  '  J  tell  you  the  thing  is  im- 
possible.' 

"'Ah!'  said  I,  'that's  because  you  have  been  lucky,  and  never 
saw  a  riprorious  hurricane  in  all  your  life.  I'll  tell  you  how  it 
was.  I  bought  a  blood-hound  from  a  man  in  Regent's  Park,  just 
afore  I  sailed,  and  the  brute  got  sea-sick,  and  then  took  the  maiige, 
and  between  that  and  death  starin'  him  in  the  face,  his  hair  all 
came  oft',  and  in  course  it  blew  away.  Is  that  impossible  T 

'•'Well,  well,'  said  he,  'you  have  the  most  comical  way  with 
you  cl  any  man  I  ever  see.  1  am  sure  it  ain't  in  your  nature  to 
speak  of  death  in  that  careless  manner  ;  you  only  talked  that  way 
lu  aruw  me  out.  I  know  you  did.  It's  not  a  subject,  however,  to 
1 1 eat  lightly  ;  and  if  you  are  not  inclined  to  be  serious  just  now, 
U-il  us  a  story.' 

"'berious,'  sais  I,  'I  am  disposed  to  be;  but  not  sanctimonious, 
and  you  know  that.  But  here  goes  for  a  story,  which  has  a  nice 
ittle  moral  in  it,  too. 

'"Once  on  a  time,  when  pigs  were  swine,  and  turkeys  chewed- 
obacco.  and  little  birds  built  their  nests  in  old  men's  beards-.' 

" '  Pooh  !'  said  he,  turning  off  huffy-like,  as  if  1  was  a  goin'  to 
Huff  him  off.  '  I  wonder  whether  supper  is  ready  V 

"  '  Cutler,'  sais  1,  '  come  back,  that's  a  good  fellow,  and  I'll  tell 
you  the  story.  It's  a  short  one,  and  will  just  fill  up  the  space  be- 
tween this  and  tea-time.  It  is  in  illustration  of  what  you  was  a 
sayin',  «hat  it  ain't  always  fair  weather  sailing  in  this  world. 
There  was  a  jack-tar  once  to  England  who  had  been  absent  on  a 
whaling  voyage  for  nearly  three  years,  and  he  had  hardly  landed 
when  he  was  ordered  off  to  sea  again,  before  he  had  time  to  go 


UNLOCKING     A     WOMAN'S     11  K  A  K  T  .  87 

home  and  see  his  friends.  He  was  a  lamentiu'  this  to  a  shipmate 
cf  his,  a  serious-minded  man,  like  you. 

'•'Sais  he,  'Bill,  it  breaketh  my  heart  to  have  to  leave  agir. 
arter  this  fashion.  I  havn't  seen  Polly  now  goin'  on  three  years, 
nor  the  little  un  either.'  And  he  aetiliy  piped  his  eye. 

"'It  seemeth  hard,  Tom,' said  Bill,  tryin' to  comfort  him — 'it 
.  secmeth  hard  ;  but  I'm  an  older  man  nor  you  be,  Tom,  the  matter 
of  several  years  ;'  and  he  gave  his  trowsers  a  twitch.  ('You  know 
they  don't  wear  galluses,  though  a  gallus  holds  them  up  some- 
times,') shifted  his  quid,  gave  his  nor'wester  a  pull  over  his  fore- 
head, and  looked  solernncholly,  'and  my  experience,  Tom,  is,  th;it 
this  life  aiiCt  oil  beer  and  skittles.' 

'"Cutler,  there  is  a  great  deal  cf  philosophy  in  that,  maxim:  a 
preacher  couldn't  say  as  much  in  a  sermon  an  hour  Jong,  as  there 
is  in  that  little  story  with  that  little  moral  reflection  at  the  eend 
uf  it. 

'• '  This  life  ain't  all  beer  and  skittles.'  Many  a  time  since  I 
heard  that  anecdote — and  I  heard  it  in  Kew  Gardens,  of  all  places 
in  the  world — when  I  am  disappointed  sadly  1  say  that  saw  over, 
and  console  myself  with  it.  1  can't  expect  to  go  thro'  the  world, 
Cutler,  as  1  have  done :  stormy  days,  long  and  dark  nights  are  be- 
fore me.  As  I  grow  old,  1  shan't  be  so  full  of  animal  spirits  as  1 
have  bi-en.  In  the  natur  of  things  I  must  have  my  share  of  aches, 
and  pains,  and  disappointment,  as  well  as  others  ;  and  when  they 
come,  nothing  will  belter  help  me  to  bear  them  than  that  little 
simple  reflection  of  the  sailor,  which  appeals  so  directly  to  the 
heart.  Sam,  thii  life  aint  all  beer  and  skittles,  that's  a  fact.1 " 


CHAPTER    III. 
UNLOCKING   A    WOMAN'S    HEART. 

As  we  approached  the  eastern  coast,  "  Eldad,"  sais  I,  to  the 
pilot,  "  is  there  any  harbor  about  here  where  our  folks  can  do  a 
little  bit  of  trade,  and  where  I  can  see  something  of  '  Fishermen  at 
home." 

"  We  must  be  careful  now  how  we  proceed,  for  if  the  'Spitfire' 
floats  at  the  flood,  Captain  Stoker  will  try  perhaps  to  overhaul  us." 

"  Don't  we  want  to  wood  and  water,  and  aint  there  some  repairs 
wanting,"  sais  I,  and  1  gave  him  a  wink.  "If  so  we  can  put  into 
port,  but  I  don't  think  we  will  attempt  to  fish  again  within  the 
treaty  limits,  for  it's  dangerous  work." 


88  UNLOCKING     A     WOMAN'S     HKAKT. 

"  Yes,"  sais  he,  touching  his  nose  with  the  point  of  his  finger, 
"  all  these  things  are  needrd,  and  when  they  are  going  on,  the  matt 
and  I  can  attend  to  the  business  of  the  owners."  He  then  looked 
cautiously  round  to  see  that  the  Captain  was  not  within  hearing. 

"Warn't  it  the  'Black  Hawk'  that  was  chased1?"  said  he.  "  1 
think  that  was  our  name  then." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure  it  was,"  said  I. 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  this  is  the  '  Sary  Ann,'  of  New  Bedford, 
now,"  and  proceeding  aft  he  turned  a  screw,  and  I  could  hear  a 
board  shift  in  the  stern. 

"Do  you  mind  that?"  said  he:  "well,  you  can't  see  it  where 
you  stand  just  now,  at  present;  but  the  'Sary  Ann'  shows  her 
name  there,  now,  and  we  have  a  set  of  papers  to  correspond.  I 
guess  the  Britisher  can't  seize  her,  because  the  '  Black  Hawk'  broke 
the  treaty  ;  can  he  1 "  And  he  gave  a  knowing  jupe  of  his  head, 
as  much  as  to  say,  aint  that  grand  ? 

"Now,  our  new  Captain  is  a  straight-laced  sort  of  man,  you  see  ; 
but  the  cantin  fellow  of  a  master  you  had  on  board  before,  warn't 
above  a  dodge  of  this  kind.  If  it  comes  to  the  scratch,  you  must 
take  the  command  again,  for  Cutler  won't  have  art  nor  part  in  this 
game  ;  and  we  may  be  reformed  out  afore  we  know  where  we  are." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "there  is  no  occasion,  1  guess;  put  us  some- 
where a  little  out  of  sight,  and  we  won't  break  the  treaty  no  more. 
I  reckon,  the  '  Spitfire,'  after  all,  would  just  as  soon  be  in  port  as 
looking  after  us.  It's  small  potatoes  for  a  man-of-war  to  be  hunt- 
ing poor  game,  like  us  little  fore  and  afters." 

"  As  you  like,"  he  said,  "  but  we  are  prepared,  you  see,  for  the 
mate  and  men  understand  the  whole  thing.  It  aint  the  first  time 
they  have  escaped  by  changing  their  sign-board." 

''  Exactly,"  said  I,  "  a  ship  aint  like  a  dog;  that  can  only  answer 
to  one  name,  and  'Sary  Ann'  is  as  good  as  the  'Black  Hawk,' 
every  mite  and  morsel.     There  is  a  good  deal  of  fun  in  altering 
sign-boards.     I  recollect  wunst,  when  I  was  a  boy,  there  was  a 
firm  to  Slickville,  who  had  this  sign  over  their  shop : 
'  Gallop  and  More, 
Taylors.' 

"  Well,  one  Saturday-night,  brother  Josiah  and  I  got  a  paint- 
brush,  and  altered  it  this  way  : 

'Gallop  and  8  More 

Taylors 
Make  a  man.' 

''  Lord  !  what  a  commotion  it  made  !     Next  day  was  Sunday  ; 
and  as  the  folks  were  going  to  church,  they  stood  and  laughed,  and 
^hke  anything.     It  made  a  terrible  hulla-bulloo." 
Sam,'  said  minister  to  me,  '  what  in  natur  is  all  that  ondecent 
noise  about,  so  near  the  church  door  1 ' 


G    A    WOMANS    HEART.  &) 

"  I  told  him.  It  was  most  too  much  for  him,  but  he  bit  in  his 
breath,  and  tried  to  look  grave;  but  1  see  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and 
the  corner  of  his  mouth  twitch,  the  way  your  eyelid  does  some- 
limes,  when  a  nerve  gets  a  dancing  involuntarily. 

u '  A  very  foolish  joke,  Sam,'  he  said ;  '  it  may  get  you  into 
trouble." 

444  Why,  minister,'  said  1, 4 1  hope  you  don't  think  that — ' 

444  No,'  said  he,  4 1  don't  think  at  all,  I  know  it  was  you,  for  it'a 
just  like  you.  But  it's  a  foolish  joke ;  for,  Sam  : 

"  '  Honor  and  worth  from  no  condition  rise—' 
" 4  Exactly,'  sais  I, 

•' '  Stitch  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honor  lie*.' 

"'Sam,  Sam,'  said  he,  'you  are  a  bad  boy,'  and  he  put  on  a 
serious  face,  and  went  in  and  got  his  gown  ready  for  service. 

"  The  4  Sary  Ann,'  for  the  4  Black  Hawk,'  "  sais  I  to  myself, 
44  well  that  aint  bad  either;  but  there  are  more  chests  of  tea  and 
Ut-Lr*  of  brandy,  and  such  like,  taken  right  by  the  custom-house 
door  at  Halifax  in  loads  of  hay  and  straw,  then  conies  by  water, 
just  because  it  is  the  onlikeliest  way  in  the  world  any  man  would 
do  it.  But  it  is  only  some  of  ihe  Bay  of  Fundy  boys  that  are  up 
to  that  dodge.  Smugglers  in  general  haven't  the  courage  to,  do 
that.  Dear  me !"  sais  1  to  myself,  "  when  was  there  ever  a  law 
that  couldn't  be  evaded  ;  a  tax  that  couldn't  be  shuffled  off  like  an 
old  slipper;  a  prohibition  that  a  smuggler  couldn't  row  right 
straight  through,  or  a  treaty  that  hadn't  more  holes  in  it  than  a 
dozen  supplemental  ones  could  patch  up  ?  ICs  a  high  fence  that 
can't  lie  scaled,  and  a  strong  one  that  can't  be  broke  down.  When 
there  are  accomplices  in  the  house,  it  is  easier  to  (jet  the  door  unlocked 
than  to  force  it.  Receivers  make  smugglers.  Where  there  are  not 
informers,  penalties  are  dead  letters.  The  people  here  like  to  see  us, 
for  it  is  their  interest,  and  we  are  safe,  as  long  as  they  are  friendly. 
I  don't  want  to  smuggle,  for  I  scorn  such  a  pettifogin'  business,  as 
Josiah  would  call  it ;  but  I  must  and  will  see  how  the  thing  works, 
so  as  to  report  it  to  the  President." 

44  Well,  Eldad,"  sais  I,  "  I  leave  all  this  to  you.  I  want  to  avoid 
a  scrape  if  I  can,  so  put  us  in  a  place  of  safety,  and  be  careful  how 
you  proceed." 

44 1  understand,'*  said  he.  "  Now,  Mr.  Slick,  look  yonder,"  point- 
ing towards  the  shore.  "  What  is  that  ]'' 

44  A  large,  ship  under  full  sail,"  said  I,  4;  but  it  is  curious  she  has 
got  the  wind  off  shore,  and  just  dead  on  end  to  us." 

u  Are  you  sure,"  said  he,  44  it  is  a  ship,  for  if  we  get  foul  of  her 
we  shall  be  sunk  in  a  moment,  and  every  soul  on  board  perish/' 


Id  u  JS  i.  o  c  K  i  N  e    A    WOMAN'S    HEART. 

"  Is  it  a  cruiser?''  sais  I ;  "because  if  it  is,  steer  boldly  for  her, 
and  I  will  go  on  board  of  her,  and  shew  my  commission  as  an 
officer  of  our  everlastin'  nation.  Captain,"  said  1,  '•  what  is  that 
stranger  1" 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and 
examined  her.  "  A  large,'  square-rigged  vessel,"  he  said,  "  under  a 
heavy  press  of  canvas,"  and  resumed  his  walk  on  the  deck. 

After  a  while  the  pilot  said:  "Look  again,  Mr.  Slick,  can  you 
make  her  out  now  ?'' 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "she  is  only  a  brigantine;  but  ask  the  skipper." 

He  took  his  glass  and  scrutinized  her  closely,  and  as  he  replaced 
it  in  the  binnacle  said  :  "  We  are  going  to  have  southerly  weather 
1  think ;  she  loomed  very  large  when  1  fiivt  saw  her,  and  1  took  hiT 
for  a  ship  ;  but  now  she  seems  to  be  an  hermophrodite.  It's  of  no 
consequence  to  us,  however,  what  she  is,  and  we  shall  soon  near 
her." 

"Beyond  that  vessel,"  said  the  pilot,  "there  is  a  splendid  har- 
bor, and  as  there  has  been  a  head  wind  for  some  time,  J  have  no 
doubt  there  are  many  coasters  in  there,  from  the  masters  of  whom 
you  can  obtain  much  useful  information  on  the  object  of  your  visit, 
while  we  can  drive  a  profitable  trade  among  them  and  the  folks 
ashore.  How  beautifully  these  harbors  are  situated,"  he  continued, 
"  for  carrying  on  the  fisheries,  and  Nova  Scotian  though  I  be,  1  must 
say,  I  do  think,  in  any  other  part  of  the  world  there  would  be 
large  towns  here." 

"  I  think  so  too,  Eldad,"  sais  I,  "  but  British  legislation  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  your  misfortunes,  after  all,  and  though  you  are  as 
lazy  as  sloths,  and  as  idle  as  that  fellow  old  Blovvhard  saw,  who  lay 
down  on  the  grass  all  day  to  watch  the  vessels  passing,  and  observe 
the  motion  of  the  crows,  the  English,  by  breaking  up  your  mono- 
poly of  inter-colonial  and  West  India  trade,  and  throwing  it  open 
to  us,  not  only  without  an  equivalent,  but  in  the  face  of  our  pro- 
hibitory duties,  are  the  cause  of  all  your  poverty  and  stagnation. 
They  are  rich,  and  able  to  act  like  fools  if  they  like  in  their  own 
affairs,  but  it  was  a  cruel  thing  to  sacrifice  you,  as  they  have  done, 
and  deprive  you  of  the  only  natural  carrying  trade  and  markets 
you  had.  rJhe  more  I  think  of  it,  the  less  J  blame  you.  It  is  a 
wicked  mockery  to  lock  men  up,  and  then  taunt  them  with  want  of 
'enterprise,  and  tell  them  they  are  idle." 

"  Look  at  that  vessel  again,  Sir,"  said  Eldad  ;  "  she  don't  mak« 
much  headway,  does  she  ?" 

Well,  I  took  the  glass  again  and  examined  her  minutely,  and  ! 
never  was  so  stumpt  in  my  life. 

li  Pilot,"  said  I,  "  is  that  the  same  vessel  ?" 

"  The  identical,"  said  he. 

"1  vow  to  man."  sais  I,  "as  I  am  a  livin'  sinner,  that  is  neither 


UNLOCKING      A      W  <  >  M  A  X    5     HEART.  41 

ft  ship,  nor  a  brigantine,  nor  a  hermophrodite,  but  a  topsail 
schooner,  that's  a  fact.  What  in  natur'  is  the  meaniu'  of  all  this  * 
Perhaps  the  Captain  knows,"  so  I  called  him  again. 

"  Cutler,  that  vessel  is  transmograficd  again,"  sais  I ;  "  look  at 
her." 

'•  Pooh,"  said  he,  "  that's  not  the  same  vessel  at  all.  The  two 
first  we  saw  are  behind  that  island.  That  one  is  nothing  but  a 
coaster.  You  can't  take  me  in.  Slick.  You  are  always  full  of  youi 
fun,  and  taking  a  rise  out  of  some  one  or  another,  and  I  shall  be 
glad  when  we  land,  you  will  then  have  some  one  else  to  practice 
on." 

In  a  short  time  the  schooner  vanished,  and  its  place  was  supplied 
by  a  remarkable  white  cliff,  which  from  the  extraordinary  optical 
delusion  it  occasions,  gives  its  name  to  the  noble  port  which  is  now 
called  Ship  Harbor.  I  have  since  mentioned  this  subject  to  a 
number  of  mariners,  and  have  never  yet  heard  of  a  person  who 
was  not  deceived  in  a  similar  manner.  As  we  passed  through  the 
narrows,  we  entered  a  spacious  and  magnificent  basin,  so  com- 
pletely land-locked  that  a  fleet  of  vessels  of  the  largest  size  may 
lay  there  unmoved  by  any  M'ind.  There  is  no  haven  in  America 
to  be  compared  with  it. 

"  You  are  now  safe,"  said  the  pilot;  "  it  is  only  twelve  leagues 
from  Halifax,  and  nobody  would  think  of  looking  for  you  here. 
The  fact  is,  the  nearer  you  hide,  the  safer  you  be" 

"  Exactly,"  sais  1 ;  "  what  you  seek  you  can't  find,  but  when 
you  aint  looking  for  a  thing,  you  are  sure  to  stumble  on  it." 

"  If  you  ever  want  to  run  goods,  Sir,"  said  he,  *'  the  closer  you 
go  to  the  port,  the  better.  Smugglers  aint  all  up  to  this,  so  they 
seldom  approach  the  lion's  den,  but  go  farther  and  fare  worse. 
Now  we  may  learn  lessons  from  dumb  animals.  They  know  we 
reason  on  probabilities,  and  therefore  always  do  what  is  improba- 
ble. We  think  them  to  be  fools,  but  they  know  that  we  are.  The 
fox  sees  we  always  look  for  him  about  his  hole,  and  therefore  he 
carries  on  his  trade  as  far  from  it,  and  as  mar  the  poultry  yard  as 
possible.  If  a  dog  kills  sheep,  and  them  Newfoundlanders  are 
iiio-t  uncommon  fond  of  mutton,  I  must  say,  he  never  attacks  his 
neighbor's  flock,  for  he  knows  he  would  be  suspected  and  had  up 
tor  it,  but  sets  off  at  night,  and  makes  a  foray  like  the  old  Scotch 
on  the  distant  borders. 

•'  He  washes  himself,  for  marks  of  blood  is  a  bad  sign,  and 
returns  afore  day,  and  wags  his  tail,  and  runs  round  his  master. " 
and  looks  up  into  his  face  as  innocent  as  you  please,  as  much  as  to 
say,  'Squire,  here  1  have  been  watchin  of  your  propeity  all  this 
live  l<»ng  night,  it's  dreadful  lonely  work,  I  do  assure  you,  and  oh, 
bow  glad  1  am  to  see  the  shine  of  your  face  this  morning.' 

"  And  tho  old  boss  pats  his  head,  fairly  took  in,  and  say*,  'thai. a 


42  UNLOCKING     A     W  O  M  A  N  '  8     HEART. 

a  good  dog— what  a  faithful,  honest  fellow  you  be ;  you  are  worth 
your  weight  in  gold.' 

!  "  Well,  the  next  time  he  goes  off  on  a  spree  in  the  same  quarter, 
what  does  he  see  but  a  border  dog  strung  up  by  the  neck,  who  has 
been  seized  and  condemned,  as  many  an  innocent  fellow  has  been 
before  him  on  circumstantial  evidence,  and  he  laughs  and  says  to 
himself,  '  what  fools  humans  be  ;  they  don't  know  half  as  much  as 
we  dogs  do.'  So  he  thinks  it  would  be  as  well  to  shift  his  ground, 
where^folks  ain't  on  the  watch  for  sheep-stealers,  and  he  makes  a 
dash  into  a  flock  still  further  off. 

"Them  Newfoundlanders  would  puzzle  the  London  detective 
police,  I  believe  they  are  the  most  knowin'  coons  in  all  creation, 
don't  you  ?" 

"  Well,  they  are,"  sais  I,  "  that's  a  fact,  and  they  have  all  the 
same  passions  and  feelings  we  have,  only  they  are  more  grateful 
than  man  is,  and  you  can  by  kindness  lay  one  of  them  under  an 
obligation  he  will  never  forget  as  long  as  he  lives,  whereas  an 
obligation  scares  a  man,  for  he  snorts  and  stares  at  you  like  a 
horse  at  an  engine,  and  is  e'en  most  sure  to  up  heels  and  let  y«>u 
have  it,  like  mad.  The  only  thing  about  dogs  is,  they  can't  bear 
rivals;  they  like  to  have  all  attention  paid  to  themselves  exclu 
sively.  I  will  tell  you  a  story  I  had  from  a  British  Colonel. 

"  He  was  stationed  in  Nova  Scotia,  with  his  regiment,  when  J 
was  a  venden  of  clocks  there.  I  met  him  to  Windsor,  at  the 
\VilcoK  Inn.  lie  was  mightily  taken  with  my  old  horse  Clay,  and 
offered  me  a  most  an  everlastin'  long  price  for  him  :  he  said  if  1 
would  sell  him,  he  wouldn't  stand  for  money,  for  he  never  see  such 
an  animal  in  all  his  born  days,  and  so  on.  But  old  Clay  was 
above  all  price  ;  his  ditto  was  never  made  yet,  and  1  don't  think 
ever  will  be.  1  had  no  notion  to  sell  him,  and  I  told  him  so,  but 
seein'  he  was  dreadful  disappointed,  for  a  rich  Englishman  actuary 
thinks  money  will  do  anything  arid  get  anything,  1  told  him  if  ever 
J  parted  with  him,  he  should  have  him  on  condition  he  would  keep 
him  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  so  on. 

"  Well,  it  pacified  him  a  bit,  and  to  turn  the  conversation,  sais  1, 
1  Colonel,'  sais  I,  '  what  a  most  an  almighty  everlastin'  super  supe 
r.or  Newfoundler  that  is.'  a  pointih  to  his  dog ;  '  creation,  sais  I, 
4  if  I  had  a  regimen1;  of  such  fellows,  1  believe  1  wouldn't  be  afraid 
ot  the  devil.  My,'  sais  I,  '  what  a  dog !  would  you  part  with  him  ? 
I  de  give  anything  fur  him.' 

"  I  said  that  a  purpose  to  show  him  I  had  as  good  a  right  to 
keep  my  horse  as  he  had  his  long-hair  gentleman. 

'No,'  sais  he,  with  a  sort  of  half-smile  at  mv  ignorance  in 
pokin  such  a  question  at  him,  (for  a  Britisher  abroad  thinks  he  has 
privilege  no  one  else  has),  '  no,  1  don't  want  to  part  with  him.  I 
want  to  take  him  to  England  with  me.  g^,  he  has  nil  th*  marks 


UNLOCKING     A     WOMAN'S     HEART.  43 

of  the  true  breed ;  look  at  his  beautiful  broad  forehead,  what  an 
intellectual  one  it  is,  ain't  it  ]  then  see  his  delicate  mouse-like  ears, 
just  largo  enough  to  cover  the  orifice,  and  that's  all.' 

" '  Orifice,'  said  J,  for  1  hate  fine  words,  for  common  use,  they 
are  like  go-to  meetin'  clothes  on  week-days,  onconvenient,  and  look 
too  all  fired  jam  up.  Sais  I,  '  what's  that  when  it's  fried  ?  I  don't 
kno»v  that  word  T 

'• '  Why,  ear-hole,'  said  he. 

" '  Oh,'  sais  I,  simple-like,  '  I  take  now.' 

"  He  smiled  and  went  on.  '  Look  at  the  black  roof  of  his 
mouth,'  said  he,  'and  do  you  see  the  dew-claw,  that  is  a  great 
mark  j  Then  feel  that  tail ;  that  is  his  rudder  to  steer  by  when 
swimming.  It's  different  from  the  tail  of  other  dogs — the  strength 
of  that  joint  is  surprising  ;  but  his  chest,  Sir,  his  chest,  see  how 
that  is  formed  on  purpose  for  diving !  It  is  shaped  internally  like 
a  seal's,  and  then,  observe  the  spread  of  that  webbed  foot,  and  the, 
power  of  them  paddles  !  There  are  two  kinds  of  them,  the  short 
and  the  long-haired,  but  I  think  those  shaggy  ones  are  the  hand- 
somest. They  are  very  difficult  to  be  got  now  of  the  pure  breed. 
1  sent  to  the  Bay  of  Bulls  for  this  one.  To  have  them  in  health 
you  must  make  them  stay  out  of  doors  in  all  weather,  and  keep 
them  cool,  and,  above  all,  not  feed  them  too  high.  Salt  fish  seems 
the  best  food  for  them,  they  are  so  fond  of  it.  Singular  that,  ain't 
it  ?  but  a  dog  is  natural,  Sir,  and  a  man  ain't. 

" '  Now,  you  never  saw  a  codfish  at  the  table  of  a  Newfoundland 
merchant  in  your  life,  lie  thinks  it  smells  too  much  of  the  shop. 
In  tact,  in  my  opinion,  the  dog  is  the  only  gentleman  there.  The 
only  one  now  that  the  Indian  is  extinct,  who  has  breeding  and 
blood  in  that  land  of  oil,  blubber,  and  icebergs.' 

u  Lord,  1  wish  one  of  them  had  been  there  to  have  heard  him, 
wouldn't  he  a  harpooned  him  ?  that's  all.  He  made  a  considerable 
of  a  long  yarn  of  it,  and,  as  it  was  a  text  he  had  often  enlaiged 
on,  I  thought  he  never  would  have  ended,  but  like  other  preachers 
when  he  got  heated,  spit  on  the  slate,  rub  it  all  out,  and  cypher  it 
over  again.  Thinks  1  to  myself,  I'll  play  you  a  bit,  my  boy. 

" '  Exactly,'  sais  I ;  '  there  is  the  same  difference  in  dogs  and 
horses  as  there  is  in  men.  Some  are  noble  by  nature,  and  some 
vulgar  ;  each  is  known  by  his  breed.' 

"  '  True,'  said  he,  '  very  true,'  and  he  stood  up  a  little  straighten, 
as  if  it  did  him  good  to  hear  a  republican  say  that,  for  his  father 
was  an  Earl.  '  A  very  just  remark,'  said  he,  and  he  eyed  me  all 
over,  as  if  he  was  rather  surprised  at  my  penetration. 

u  k  But  the  worst  of  it,'  sais  I,  'is  that  a  high-born  brute,  and  a 
high-bred  man,  are  only  g.>od  for  one  thing.  A  po;nter  will  point 
— a  blood-hound  run — a  seller  will  set — a  bull-dog  fight — and  a 
Newfoundlander  will  swim  ;  but  what  else  are  they  good  for  I 


44  UNLOCKING     A     WOMAN     8     HKAKT. 

Now  a  duke  is  a  duke,  and  the  devil  a  thing  else.  All  you  expect 
of  him  is  to  act  and  look  like  one  ;  (and  1  could  point  out  some 
that  even  don't  even  do  that).  It'  he  writes  a  book,  and  I  believe 
a  Scotch  one,  by  the  help  of  his  tutor,  did  once;  or  makes  a 
speech,  you  say,  come  now,  that  is  very  well  for  a  duke,  and  so  on. 
Well,  a  marquis  ain't  quite  so  high  bred,  and  he  is  a  little  better 
and  so  on,  downwards.  When  you  get  to  an  earl,  why,  he  may 
be  good  for  more  things  than  one.  1  ain't  quite  sure  a  cross  ain't 
desirable,  and  in  that  way  that  you  couldn't  improve  the  intelli 
gence  of  both  horses,  noblemen,  and  dogs — don't  you  think  so, 
Sir  V  sais  I. 

"  '  It  is  natural  for  you,'  said  he,  not  liking  the  smack  of  dem- 
ocracy that  1  threw  in  for  fun,  and  looking  uneasy.  '  So,'  sais  he, 
(by  way  of  turning  the  conversation)  'the  sagacity  of  dogs  is  very 
wonderful.  1  will  tell  you  an  anecdote  of  this  one  that  has  sur- 
prised everybody  to  whom  I  have  related  it. 

'* '  Last  summer  my  duties  led  me  to  George's  Island.  I  take  it 
for  granted  you  know  it.  It  is  a  small  island  situated  in  the  centre 
of  the  harbor  of  Halifax,  has  a  powerful  battery  on  it,  and  bar- 
racks for  the  accommodation  of  troops.  There  was  a  company  of 
my  regiment  stationed  there  at  the  time.  I  took  this  dog  and  a 
small  terrier,  called  Tilt,  in  the  boat  with  me.  The  latter  was  a 
very  active  little  fellow  that  the  General  had  given  me  a  few  weeks 
before.  He  was  such  an  amusing  creature,  that  he  soon  became  a 
universal  favorite,  and  was  suffered  to  come  into  the  house,  (a 
privilege  which  was  never  granted  to  this  gentleman,  who  paid  no 
regard  to  the  appearance  of  his  coat,  which  was  often  wet  and 
dirty,)  and  who  was  therefore  excluded. 

"'The  consequence  was,  Thunder  was  jealous,  and  would  riot 
associate  with  him,  and  if  ever  he  took  any  liberty,  he  turned  on 
him  and  punished  him  severely.  This,  however,  he  never  presumed 
to  do  in  my  presence,  as  he  knew  I  would  not  suffer  it,  and,  there 
fore,  when  they  both  accompanied  me  in  my  walks,  the  big  dog 
contented  himself  with  treating  the  other  with  perfect  indifference 
and  contempt.  Upon  this  occasion,  Thunder  lay  down  in  the  boat, 
and  composed  himself  to  sleep,  while  the  little  fellow,  who  was  full 
of  life  and  animation,  and  appeared  as  if  he  did  not  know  what  it 
was  to  close  his  eyes,  sat  up,  looked  over  the  gunwale,  and  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  thing  uncommonly.  He  watched  the  motions  of  the 
men,  as  if  he  understood  what  was  required  of  them,  and  was 
anxious  they  should  acquit  themselves  properly. 

' '  He  knew,'  said  I,  '  it  was  what  sailors  call  the  dog-watch.' 

'  Very  good?  said  he,  but  looking  all  the  time  as  if  he  thought 
the  interruption  very  bad. 

"  After  having  made  my  inspection,  I  returned  to  the  boat,  for 
UW  purpose  of  tvcr..ssing  to  the  town,  when   I   missed  the  terrier 


UNLOCKING     A     \Y  O  M  A  N  '  8     HEART.  46 

Thunder  was  close  at  my  heels,  and  when  I  whistled  for  the  other, 
wagged  his  tail  and  looked  up  in  my  face,  as  if  he  would  say.  never 
mind  that  foolish  dog,  I  am  here,  and  that  is  enough,  or  is  there 
aii\  thing  you  want  me  to  do'? 

•' '  After  calling  ip  vain,  I  went  back  to  the  barracks,  and  inquired 
of  the  men  for  Tilt,  but  no  one  appeared  to  have  seen  him,  or 
noticed  his  motions. 

"  After  perambulating  the  little  island  in  vain,  I  happened  to  ask 
the  sentry  if  he  knew  where  he  was. 

"  '  Yes,  sir,'  said  he,  '  he  is  buried  in  the  beach.' 

"  Buried  in  the  beach,'  said  I,  with  great  anger,  '  who  dared  tc 
kill  him?  Tell  me,  Sir,  immediately.' 

" '  That  large  dog  did  it,  Sir.  He  enticed  him  down  to  the 
shore,  by  playing  with  him,  pretending  to  crouch,  and  then  run 
after  him  ;  and  then  retreating,  and  coaxing  him  to  chase  him  ;  and 
when  he  got  him  near  the  beach,  he  throttled  him  in  an  instant,  and 
then  scratched  a  hole  in  the  shingle  and  buried  him,  covering  him 
up  with  the  gravel.  After  that,  he  went  into  the  water,  and  with 
his  paws  washed  his  head  and  face,  shook  himself,  and  went  up  to 
the  barracks.  You  will  find  the  terrier  just  down  there,  Sir.' 

"  '  And  sure  enough  there  was  the  poor  little  fellow,  quite  dead, 
and  yet  warm. 

': '  In  the  meantime,  Thunder,  who  had  watched  our  proceedings 
from  a  distance,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  body  exhumed,  felt  as  if 
there  was  a  court-martial  holding  over  himself,  plunged  into  the 
harbor,  and  swam  across  to  the  town,  and  hid  himself  for  several 
tluvs,  until  he  thought  the  affair  had  blown  over;  and  then  ap- 
proached me  anxiously  and  cautiously,  lest  he  should  be  appre- 
hended and  condemned.  As  I  was  unwilling  to  lose  both  of  my 
dogs,  1  was  obliged  to  overlook  it,  and  take  him  back  to  my  confi- 
dence. A  strange  story,  aint  it,  Mr.  Slick  V 

"  Well,  it  is,'  sais  I,  'but  dogs  do  certainly  beat  all  natur,  that's 
a  fact.' 

But  to  get  back  to  the  "  Black  Hawk  ;''  as  soon  as  we  anchored, 
I  proposed  to  Cutler  that  we  should  go  ashore  and  visit  the  "  i»-i- 
tives."  While  he  was  engaged  giving  his  orders  to  the  mate,  1  took 
the  opportunity  of  inquiring  of  the  Pilot  about  the  inhabitants. 
This  is  always  a  necessary  precaution.  If  you  require  light-houses, 
buoys,  and  sailing  directions  to  enter  a  port,  you  want  similar 
guides  when  you  land.  The  navigation  there  is  difficult  also,  and 
it's  a  great  thing  to  know  who  you  are  going  to  meet,  what  sort  of 
stun"  tney  are  made  of,  and  which  way  to  steer,  so  as  to  avoid 
hidden  shoals  and  sand-bars,  for  every  little  community  is  as  full 
i>f  them  as  their  harbor.  It  don't  do,  you  know,  to  talk  tory  in  ihe 
house  of  a  radical,  to  name  a  bishop  to  a  puritan,  to  let  out  agin 
kinuggliu'  to  a  man  who  docs  a  little  bit  of  business  that  way  hiu> 


*6  UNLOCKING     A     WOMAN'S     HEART. 

self-  or  as  the  French  say,  "  to  talk  of  a  rope  in  a  house  where  tht» 
squatter'  has  been  hanged."  If  you  want  to  please  a  guest,  .you 
must  have  some  of  his  favorite  dishes  at  dinner  tor  him  ;  and  if 
you  want  to  talk  agreeably  to  a  man,  you  must  select  topics  he  hag 
A  relish  for.  , 

"  So,"  says  I,  "  where  had  we  better  go-.  Pilot,  when  we  land 

'•  Do  you  see  that  are  white,  one-story  house  there  '?"  said  he. 
"That  is  a  place,  though  not  an  inn,  where  the  owner,  if  he  is  at 
home,  will  receive  the  likes  of  you  very  hospitably.  He  is  a  capi 
tal  fellow  in  his  way,  but  as  hot  as  pepper.  His  name  is  Peter 
McDonald,  and  he  is  considerable  well  to  do  in  the  world.  He  is 
a  Highlander ;  and  when  young  went  out  to  Canada  in  the  employ- 
ment of  the  North-west  Fur  Company,  where  he  spent  many  years, 
and  married,  broomstick  fashion,  1  suppose,  a  squaw.  %  After  her 
death,  he  removed,  with  his  two  half-caste  daughters,  to  St.  John's, 
New  Brunswick  ;  but  his  girls,  I  don't  think,  were  very  well  re 
ceived,  on  account  of  their  color,  and  he  came  down  here  and  set 
tied  at  Ship  Harbor,  where  some  of  his  countrymen  are  located. 
He  is  as  proud  as  Lucifer,  and  so  are  his  galls.  Whether  it  is  that 
they  have  been  slighted,  and  revenge  it  on  all  the  rest  of  the  world, 
I  don't  know  ;  or  whether  it  is  Highland  and  Indian  pride  mixed,  1 
aint  sartified  ;  but  they  carry  their  heads  high,  and  show  a  stiff 
upper  lip,  I  tell  you.  I  don't  think  you  will  get  much  talk  out  ol 
them,  fur  I  never  could." 

"  Well,  it  don't  follow,"  said  I,  "by  no  manner  of  means,  Eldad, 
because  they  wouldn't  chat  to  you,  that  they  wouldn't  open  their 
little  mugs  to  me.  First  and  foremost  recollect,  Mr.  Nickerson, 
you  are  a  married  man,  and  it's  no  use  for  a  gall  to  talk  it  into 
you  ;  and  then,  in  the  next  place,  you  see  you  know  a  plaguey 
sight  more  about  the  shape,  make,  ahd  bu  Id  of  a  craft  like  this, 
than  you  do  about  the  figure-head,  waist,  and  trim  of  a  gall.  You 
are  a  seaman,  and  I  am  a  landsman  ;  you  know  how  to  bait  your 
hooks  for  fish,  and  I  know  the  sort  of  hackle  women  will  jump  at. 
See  if  I  don't  set  their  clappers  a  going,  like  those  of  a  saw-mill. 
Do  they  speak  English  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "  and  they  talk  Gaelic  and  French  als  > ;  the  first 
two  they  learned  from  their  father,  and  the  other  in  Canada." 

"  Are  they  pretty  ?" 

"The  eldest  is  beautiful,"  said  he;  ''and  there  is  something  in 
her  manner  you  can't  help  thinking  she  is  a  lady.  You  never  saw 
such  a  beautiful  figure  as  she  is  in  \  our  life." 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  "that's  all  you  know  about  it,  old  boy." 
But  I  didn't  say  so,  for  I  was  thinking  of  Sophy  at  the  time.  * 

(^  We  then  pushed  off,  and  steered  for  Peter  'McDonald's,  Indian 
Peter,  as  the  Pilot  said  the  fishermen  called  him.  As  we  approached 
the  house  he  came  out  to  meet  us;  he  was  a  short,  st— or- 


UNLOCKING*     A     WOMAN     S     HEART.  17 

athletic  man,  and  his  step  was  as  springy  as  a  boy's.  He  had  a 
jolly,  open,  manly  face,  but  a  quick,  restless  eye,  and  the  general 
expression  of  his  countenance  indicated,  at  once,  good  nature,  an*' 
irasc.bility  of  temper. 

4i  Coot  tay,  shentlemen,"  he  said,  "  she  is  glad  to  see  you  ;  come 
walk  into  her  own  house."  He  recognised  and  received  kindly 
Eldad,  who  mentioned  our  names  and  introduced  us,  and  he  wel- 
comed us  cordially.  As  soon  as  we  were  seated,  according  to  the 
custom  of  the  northwest  traders,  he  insisted  upon  our  taking  some- 
thing to  drink,  and  calling  to  his  daughter  Jessie  in  Gaelic,  ho 
desired  her  t<>  bring  whiskey  and  brandy.  As  I  knew  this  was  a 
request,  that  on  such  an  occasion  could  not  be  declined  without 
offence,  I  accepted  his  offer  with  thanks,  and  no  little  praise  on  the 
virtues  of  whiskey,  the  principal  recommendation  of  which,  I  said, 
44  was  that  there  was  not  a  headache  in  a  hogshead  of  it." 

"She  believes  so  herself,"  he  said,  "it  is  petter  ash  all  de  rum, 
prandy,  shin,  and  other  Yanke  pyson  in  the  States;  ta  Y  ankles 
are  cheatin  smugglin  rascnlls." 

The  entrance  of  Jessie  fortunately  gave  a  turn  to  this  compli- 
mentary remark  ;  when  she  set  down  the  tray,  1  rose  and  extended 
my  hand  to  her,  and  said  in  Gaelic,  "  Cair  mur  tlia  thu  mo  grndh, 
(how  do  you  do  my  dear),  tha  mi'n  dochas gam  bivl  thu  ttlan  (I  hope 
you  are  quite  well)." 

The  girl  was  amazed,  but  no  less  pleased.  How  sweet  to  the 
ear  are  the  accents  of  the  paternal  language,  or  the  mother  tongue 
as  we  call  it,  for  it  is  women  who  teach  us  to  talk.  It  is  a  bond 
of  union  !  Whoever  speaks  it,  when  we  are  in  a  land  of  strangers, 
is  regarded  as  a  relative.  I  shall  never  forget  when  I  was  in  the 
bazaar  at  Calcutta,  how  my  heart  leaped  at  hearing  the  voice  of  a 
Connecticut  man  as  he  was  addressing  a  native  trader. 

"Tell  you  what,  stranger,"  said  he,  "  1  feel  as  mad  as  a  meat 
axe,  and  1  hope  I  may  be  darned  to  all  darnation,  if  I  wouldn't 
chaw  up  your  ugly  mummyised  corpse,  hair,  hide  and  hoof,  this 
blessed  minute,  as  quick  as  1  would  mother's  dough-nuts,  if  I  wani't 
afraid  you'd  pyson  me  with  you  utiruy,  I'll  be  dod  drotted  if  I 
wouldn't." 

Oh,  how  them  homespun  words,  coarse  as  they  were,  cheered 
my  drooping  spirits,  and  the  real  Connecticut  nasal  twang  with 
which  they  were  uttered  sounded  like  music  to  my  ears;  how  it 
brought  my  home  and  far-off  friends  to  my  ears;  how  it  sent  up 
a  tear  of  mingled  joy  and  sadness  to  my  eye. 

Peter  was  delighted.  He  slapped  me  on  the  back  with  a  hearty 
g<>od  will,  in  a  way  nearly  to  deprive  me  of  my  breath,  welcomed  me 
anew,  and  invited  us  all  to  stay  with  him  while  the  vessel  remained 
there.  Jessie  replied  in  Gaelic,  but  so  rapidly  I  could  only  follow 
her  with  great  difficulty,  for  I  had  but  a  smattering  of  it,  though  1 


48  U  N  L  O  C  KING     A      \V  O  M  A  N  '  a     H  K  A  K  T  . 

understood  it  better  than  I  could  speak  it,  having  acquired  it  in  a 
very  singular  manner,  as  I  will  tell  vou  by  and  bye.  Ottering  her 
a  chair,  she  took  it  and  sat  down  after  some  hesitation,  as  if  it  was 
not  her  usual  habit  to  associate  with  her  father's  visitors,  and  we 
were  soon  on  very  sociable  terms.  I  asked  the  name  of  the  trading 
post  in  the  north-west,  where  they  had  resided,  and  delighted  h«-r  by 
informing  her  I  had  once  been  there  myself  on  business  of  J^ohn 
Jacob  Astor's  New  York  Fur  Company,  and  staid  with  the  Gov- 
ernor,  who  was  the  friend  and  patron  of  her  father's  This  was 
sufficient  to  establish  us  at  once  on  something  like  the  footing  of 
old  friends.  When  she  withdrew,  Peter  followed  her  out,  proba- 
bly to  give  some  directions  for  our  evening  meal. 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  pilot,  "  if  you  don't  beat  all  !  I  never 
could  get  a  word  out  of  that  girl,  and  you  have  loosened  her 
tongue  in  rale  right  down  earnest,  that's  a  fact." 

"Eldad,"  sais  I,  "  there  is  two  sorts  of  pilotage,  one  that  enables 
you  to  steer  through  life,  and  another  that  carries  you  safely  along 
a  coast,  and  there  is  this  dilference  between  them  :  This  universal 
glove  is  all  alike  in  a  general  way,  and  the  knowledge  that  is  sufti. 
cient  for  one  coun'ry  will  do  for  all  the  rest  of  it,  with  some  slight 
variations.  Now.  you  may  be  a  very  good  pilot  on  this  coast,  but 
your  knowledge  is  of  no  use  to  you  on  the  shores  of  England.  A 
land  pilot  is  a  fool  if  he  makes  shipwreck  wherever  he  is,  but  the 
best  of  coast  pilots  when  he  gets  on  a  strange  shore  is  as  helpless 
as  a  child.  Now  a  woman  is  a  woman  all  over  the  world,  whether 
she  speaks  Gaelic,  French,  Indian,  or  Chinese  ;  there  are  various 
"entrances  to  her  heart,  and  if  you  have  experience,  you  have  got  a 
compass  which  will  enable  you  to  steer  through  one  or  the  other  of 
them,  into  the  inner  harbor  of  it.  Now,  Minister  used  to  say  that 
Eve,  in  Hebrew,  meant  talk,  for  providence  gave  her  the  power  of 
chattyfication  on  purpose  to  take  charge  of  that  department.  Clack 
then  you  see  is  natural  to  them,  talk  therefore  to  t.'/ein  as  they  like, 
and  they  will  soon  like  to  talk  to  you.  If  a  woman  was  to  put  a 
Bramah  lock  on  her  hea't,  a  skilful  man  would  find  his  way  into  it 
if  he  wanted  to,  I  know.  That  contrivance  is  set  to  a  particular 
word  ;  find  the  letters  that  compose  it,  and  it  opens  at  once.  The 
moment  I  heard  the  Gselic  I  knew  I  had  discovered  the  cypher  — I 
tried  it  and  succeeded.  Tell  you  what,  pilot,  love  and  skill  laugh 
at  locks,  for  them  that  can't  be  opened  can  be  picked.  The  mechanism 
of  the  human  heart,  when  you  thorouyldy  understand  it,  is,  like  all 
the  other  norks  of  nature,  very  beautiful,  very  wonderful,  but  vert/ 
timt>le.  When  it  does  not  work  well,  default  is  not  in  the  mac.hinery 
but  in  the  management." 


A    C  B  I  T  T  U  R     WITH     A     THOUSAND    VIRTUES         49 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    CRITTUR    WITH    A    THOUSAND    VIRTUES    AND 
BUT   ONE   VICE: 

SOON  after  McDonald  had  returned  and  resumed  his  seat,  a  tall 
thin  man,  dressed  in  a  coarse  suit  of  homespun,  entered  the  room, 
and  addressing  our  host  familiarly  as  Squire  Peter,  deposited  in 
the  corner  a  fishing-rod,  and  proceeded  to  disencumber  himself  of  a 
large  salmon-basket  apparently  well  filled,  and  also  two  wallets, 
one  of-  which  seemed  to  contain  his  clothes,  and  the  other,  from 
the  dull  heavy  sound  it  emitted  as  he  threw  it  on  the  floor,  some 
tools.  He  was  about  forty  years  of  age.  His  head,  which  was 
singularly  well  formed,  was  covered  with  a  luxuriant  mass  of 
bu^liy  black  curls.  His  eyes  were  large,  deep  set,  and  intelligent, 
his  forehead  expansive  and  projecting,  and  his  eyebrows  heavy  and 
s-hairiiy.  When  addressing  Peter  he  raised  them  up  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  nearly  to  the  centre  of  his  forehead,  and  when  he  ceased 
they  suddenly  dropped  and  partially  concealed  his  eyes. 

It  was  impossible  not  to  be  attracted  by  a  face,  that  had  two 
such  remarkaMe  expressions  ;  one  of  animation,  amiability,  and 
intelligence;  and  the  other  of  total  abstraction.  lie  bent  forward, 
even  aft«-r  he  relieved  himself  of  his  load,  and  his  attitude  and  gait 
suggested  the  idea  of  an  American  land-surveyor,  who  had-  been 
accustomed  to  carry  heavy  weights  in  the  forest.  Without  conde- 
scending to  notice  the  party,  further  than  bestowing  on  us  a  cur- 
sory glance  to  ascertain  whether  he  knew  any  of  us,  he  drew  up  to 
the  chimney  corner,  and  placing  the  soles  of  his  boots  perpendicu- 
larly to  the  hre,  (which  soon  indicated  by  the  vapor  arising  from 
them,  that  he  had  been  wading  in  water),  he  asked  in  a  listless 
manner  and  without  waiting  for  replies,  some  unconnected  ques- 
tions of  the  landlord  :  as,  "  Any  news,  Peter?  how  does  the  world 
uss  you  ?  how  are  the  young  ladies  ?  how  is  fish  this  season  ? 
mackarel  plenty?  any  wrecks  this  year,  Peter,  eh?  any  vessels 
sinking,  and  dead  men  floating;  silks,  satins,  ribbons,  and  gold 
watches  waiting  to  be  picked  up  ?  Glorious  coast  this !  the  har- 
vest extends  over  the  whole  year,"  and  then  he  drew  his  hand  over 
his  face  as  if  to  suppress  emotion,  and  immediately  relapsed  into 
silence,  and  stared  moodily  into  the  fire. 

Peter  seemed  to  understand  that  no  answer  was  required,  and 
therefore  made  none,  but  asked  him  where  he  had  come  from  ? 

"  Where  did  he  come  from  ?  "  said  the  stranger,  who  evidently 
applied  the  question  to  a  fish  in  his  basket,  and  not  to  himself 


60      A    CRITTDB     WITH     A     THOUSAND     VIRTUES 

"originally  from  the  lake,  Peter,  where  it  was  spawned,  und 
whither  it  annually  returns.  You  ought  to  understand  that,  Mac, 
for  you  have  a  head  on  your  shoulders,  and  that  is  more  than  half 
the  poor  wretches  that  float  ashore  here  from  the  deep  have.  It's 
a  hard  life,  my  friend,  going  to  sea,  and  hard  shores  sailors  knock 
against  sometimes,  and  still  harder  hearts  they  often  find  there. 
A  stone  in  the  end  of  a  stocking  is  a  sling  for  a  giant,  and  soon 
puts  an  end  to  their  sufferings  ;  a  punishment  for  wearing  gold 
watches,  a  penalty  for  pride.  Jolly  tars,  eh  ]  oh  yes,  very  jolly  ! 
L'sa  jolly  sight,  aint  it,  to  see  two  hundred  half-naked,  mangled, 
and  disfigured  bodies  on  the  beach,  as  I  did  the  other  day  1 "  and 
he  gave  a  shudder  at  the  thought  that  seemed  to  ;hake  the  very 
chair  he  sat  on.  "It's  lucky  their  friends  doi.'t  see  them,  and 
know  their  sad  fate.  They  were  lost  at  sea!  that  is  enough  fur 
mothers  and  wives  to  hear.  The  ciy  for  help,  when  there^is  none 
to  save,  the  shriek  of  despair,  when  no  hone  is  left,  the  half-uttered 
prayer,  the  last  groan,  and  the  last  struggle  of  death,  are  all 
hushed  in  the  storm,  and  weeping  friends  know  not  what  they 
lament." 

After  a  short  pause,  he  Continued  : 

"That  sight  has  most  crazed  me.  What  was  it  you  asked? 
Oh,  1  have  it !  you  asked  where  he  came  from  ?  From  the  lake, 
Peter,  where  he  was  spawned,  and  where  he  returned,  you  see,  to 
die.  You  were  spawned  on  the  shores  of  one  of  the  bays  of  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland.  Wouldn't  \  ou  like  to  return  and  lay 
your  bones  there,  eh  ]  From  earth  you  came,  to  it  you  shall 
return.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  back  and  breathe  the  air  of 
chiJdhood  once  more  before  you  die]  Love  of  home,  Peter, 
is  strung;  it  is  an  instinct  of  nature;  but,  alas!  the  world 
is  a  Scotchman's  home— anywhere  that  he  can  make  money. 
Don't  the  mountains  with  their  misty  summits  appear  before  you 
sometimes  in  your  sleep1?  Don't  you  dream  of  their  dark  shad- 
ows and  sunny  spots,  their  heathy  slopes  and  deep,  deep  glens  ? 
Do  you  see  the  deer  grazing  there,  and  hear  the-bees  hum  merrily 
as  they  return  laden  with  honey,  or  the  grouse  rise  startled,  and 
whirr  away  to  hide  itself  in  its  distant  covert  ?  Do  the  dead  ever 
rise  from  their  graves  and  inhabit  again  the  little  cottage  that  looks 
out  on  the  stormy  sea?  Do  you  become  a  child  once  more,  and 
hear  your  mother's  voice,  as  she  sings  the  little  simple  air  that  lulls 
you  to  sleep,  or  watch  with  aching  eyes  for  the  returning  boat  that 
brings  your  lather,  with  the  shadows  of  evening,  to  his  humble 
home?  And  what  is  the  language  of  your  dreams  I  not  English, 
French,  or  Indian,  Peter,  for  they  have  been  learned  for  trade 
or  for  travel,  but  Gaelic,  for  that  was  the  language  of  love.  Had 
you  left  home  early,  Mac,  and  forgotten  its  words  or  its  sounds, 
had  all  trace  of  it  vanished  from  your  memory  as  if  it  had  neve' 


AND     BUT     ONE     VICE.  51 

been,  still  would  you  have  hoard  it,  and  known  it,  and  talked  it  in 
your  dreams.  PeteV,  it  is  the  voice  of  nature,  and  that  is  the 
Voice  of  God  !" 

'•She'll  teli  her  what  she  treams  of  sometimes,'  said  McDonald, 
u  she  treams  of  ta  mountain  dew — ta  clear  water  of  life.' 

"  I  will  be  bouncj  you  do,:'  said  the  Doctor,  '•  and  I  do  if  you 
don't ;  so,  Peter,  my  boy,  give  me  a  glass  ;  it  will  cheer  my  heart, 
for  1  have  been  too  much  alone  lately,  and  have  seen  such  horrid 
sights,  I  feel  dull." 

While  Peter,  who  was  a  good  deal  affected  with  this  reference  to 
his  native  land,  was  proceeding  to  comply  with  his  request,  he  re- 
lapsed into  his  former  state  of  abstraction,  and  -when  the  liquor  was 
presented  to  him,  appeared  altogether  to  have  forgotten  that  he  had 
asked  for  it. 

"  G.>ine,  Toctor,"  said  the  host,  touching  him  on  the  shoulder, 
"come,  take  a  drop  of  this,  it  will  cheer  you  up  ;  you  seem  a  peg 
too  low  to-day.  It's  the  genuine  thing,  it  is  some  the  Governor, 
Sir  Colin  Campbell,  gave  me." 

"  None  the  better  for  that,  Peter,  none  the  better  for  that;  for 
the  rich  give  out  of  their  abundance,  the  poor  from  their  last  cup 
and  their  last  loaf;  one  is  the  gift  of  station,  the  other  the  gift  of 
the  heart." 

"  Indeed  then,  she  is  mistakened,  man.  It  was  the  gift  of  as 
true-hearted  a  Highlander  as  ever  lived.  1  went  to  see  him  lately, 
about  a  grant  of  land.  He  was  engaged  writing  at  the  time,  and 
an  offi  -her  was  standing  by  him  for  orders,  and  sais  he  to  me,  '  my 
good  friend,  could  you  call  to-morrow  ?  for  I  am  very  busy  to-day, 
as  you  see.'  Well.  1  answered  him  in  Gaelic  that  the  wind  was 
fair,  and  1  was  anxious  to  go  home  ;  but  if  he  would  be  at  leisure 
next  week  1  would  return  again.  Oh,  1  wish  \ou  had  seen  him, 
Doctor,  when  he  heard  his  native  tongue.  He  threw  down  his  pen, 
jumped  up  like  a  boy,  and  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  shook  it  wi'h 
all  his  might.  '  Oh,'  said  he,  '  I  haven't  heard  that  for  years;  the 
sound  of  it  does  my  heart  good.  You  must  come  again  amJ  see 
me  after  the  steamer  has  left  for  England.  What  can  1  do  for 
you  ]  '  So  1  told  him  in  a  few  words  1  wanted  a  grunt  of  two  hun- 
dred acres  of  land  adjoining  this  place.  And  he  took  a  minute  of 
my  name,  and  of  Ship  Harbor,  and  the  number  of  my  lot,  and 
wrote  underneath  an  order  for  the  grant.  'Take  that  to  the  Sur- 
veyor-General,' said  he,  *  and  the  next  time  you  come  to  Halifax  the 
grant  will  be  ready  for  you.'  Then  he  rang  the  bell,  and  when  the 
servant  came,  he  ordered  him  to  fill  a  hamper  of  whiskey  and  take 
it  down  to  my  vessel." 

"  Did  you  get  the  grant  ? ''  said  the  stranger. 

'*  Indeed  she  did,"  said  Peter,  "  and  when  she  came  to  read  it,  it 
was  for  five  instead  of  two  hundred  acres." 


52       A     CUITTUR     WITH     A     THOUSAND    VIRTUES 

Good  !"  said  the  other.  "  Come,  I  like  that.  Fill  me  another 
glass  and  I  will  drink  his  health." 

«  Well  done,  old  boy!"  said  I  to  myself,  '•  you  know  how  to 
carry  your  sentimentality  to  market  anyhow.  Doctor  doctor' 
So  vou  are  a  doctor,"  sais  1  to  myself,  "  are  you  ?  Well,  there  is 
something  else  in  you  than  dough-pills,  and  salts  and  senna  at  any 
rate  and  that-is  more  than  most  of  your  craft  have,  at  all  events 
I'll  draw  you  out  presently,  for  I  never  saw  a  man  with  that  ven 
of  melancholy  in  him,  that  didn't  like  fun,  providin'  his  radnefti 
warn't  the  effect  of  disease.  So  here's  at  you;  I'll  make  the  fun 
start  or  break  a  trace,  1  know." 

Cutler  and  1  had  been  talking  horse  when  he  came  in  ;  a  sort  of 
talk  1  rather  like  myself,  for  1  consait  I  know  a  considerable  some 
about  it,  and  aint  above  getting  a  wrinkle  from  others  when  I  can. 
"  Well,"  sais  I,  '•  captirig,  we  was  talking  about  horses  when  the 
doctor  came  in." 

"Captain,"  said  the  Doctor,  turning  round  to  Cutler,  "Captain, 
excuse  me,  Sir,  how  did  you  reach  the  shore?" 
"  In  the  boat,"  said  Cutler. 

"Ah!"  said  the  other  with  animation,  "was  all  the  crew 
saved?" 

"  We  were  in  no  danger  whatever,  Sir ;  my  vessel  is  at  anchor  in 
the  harbor." 

"Ah."  replied  the  Doctor,  "that's  fortunate,  very  fortunate;" 
and  turned  again  to  the  fire,  with  an  air,  as  1  thought  of  disappoint- 
ment, as  if  he  had  expected  a  tale  of  horror  to  excite  him. 

"  Weil,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  Captain,  "let  us  hear  your  story 
about  the  horse  that  had  a  thousand  virtues  and  only  one  vice." 

At  the  sound  of  my  name,  the  stranger  gave  a  sudden  start  and 
gazed  steadily  at  me,  his  eyebrows  raised  in  the  extraordinary 
manner  that  I  have  described,  something  like  the  festoon  of  a  cur- 
tain, and  a  smile  playing  on  his  face  as  if  expecting  a  joke  and 
ready  to  enter  into  it,  and  enjoy  it.  All  this  I  observed  out  of  the 
corner  of  my  eye,  without  appearing  to  regard  him,  or  notice  his 
scrutiny. 

Sais  I,  "  when  1  had  my  tea-store  in  Boston,  I  owned  the  fastest 
trotting-horse  in  the  United  States;  he  was  a  sneezer,  I  tell  you. 
I  called  him  Mandarin — a  very  appropriate  name,  you  see,  for  my 
business.  It  was  very  important  for  me  to  attract  attention.  In- 
deed, you  must  do  it,  you  know,  in  our  great  cities,  or  you  are  run 
right  ovei,  and  crushed  by  engines  of  more  power.  Whose  horse 
is  that1?  Mr.  Slick's,  the  great  tea-merchant.  That's  the  great 
Mandarin,  the  fastest  beast  in  all  creation — refused  five  thousand 
dollars  for  him,  and  so  on.  Every  wrapper  I  had  for  my  tea  had  a 
print  of  him  on  it.  It  was  action  and  reaction,  you  see.  Well, 
this  horse  had  a  very  serious  fault  that,  diminished  his  value  in  my 


AX  D     BUT    ONE     VICE.  53 

eyes  down  .o  a  hundred  dollars,  as  far  as  use  and  comfort  went. 
Nothing  in  the  world  could  ever  induce  him  to  cross  a  bridge. 
He  had  fallen  through  one  when  he  was  a  colt,  and  got  so  allfired 
frightened  he  never  forgot  it  afterwards.  He  would  stop,  rear,  run 
back,  plunge,  and  finally  kick  if  you  punished  him  too  hard,  and 
smash  your  wagon  to  pieces,  but  cross  he  never  would.  Nobody 
knew  this  but  me,  and  of  course  I  warn't  such  a  foul  as  to  blow 
upon  my  own  beast.  At  last  I  grew  tired  of  him  and  determined 
to  sell  him  ;  but  as  I  am  a  man  that  always  adheres  to  the  truth  in 
my  horse-trades,  the  difficulty  was,  how  to' sell  him  and  not  lose  by 
him  Well,  I  had  to  go  to  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  on  busi- 
ness, and  I  took  the  chance  to  get  rid  of  Mr.  Mandarin,  and  adver- 
tised him  for  sale.  1  worded  the  notice  this  way  : 

" '  A  gentlemen,  being  desirous  of  quitting  Boston  on  urgent 
business  for  a  time,  will  dispose  of  a  first-rate  horse,  that  he  is 
obliged  to  leave  behind  him.  None  need  apply  but  those  willing 
to  give  a  long  price.  The  animal  may  be  seen  at  Deacon  Seth's 
livery  stables.' 

"  Well,  it  was  soon  known  that  Mandarin  was  for  sale,  and  sev- 
eral persons  came  to  know  the  lowest  figure.  'Four  thousand 
dollars,'  said  I,  'and  if  I  didn't  want  to  leave  Boston  in  a  hurry, 
six  would  be  the  price.' 

'•At  last  young  Mr.  Parker,  the  banker's  son  from  Bethany, 
called  and  said  he  wouldn't  stand  for  the  price,  seeing  that  a  hun- 
dred dollars  was  no  more  than  a  cord  of  wood  in  his  pocket.  (Good 
gracious,  how  the  Doctor  laughed  at  that  phrase  !)  but  would  like 
to  inquire  a  little  about  the  critter,  confidential  like. 

" '  1  will  answer  any  questions  you  ask,'  I  said,  candidly. 

"  '  Is  he  sound  V 

"  '  Sound  as  a  new  hackmctack  trenail.  Drive  it  all  day,  and 
you  can't  broom  it  one  mite  or  morsel.' 

"  '  Good  in  harness  V 

"  '  Excellent.     Can  do  his  mile  in  two  fifteen.     He  has  done  it.' 

" '  Now  between  man  and  man,'  sais  he,  what  is  your  reason 
for  selling  the  horse,  Slick  ?  for  you  are  not  so  soft  as  to  be  tempted 
by  price  out  of  a  first  chop  article  like  that.' 

"  '  Well,  candidly,'  sais  I,  'for  I  am  like  a  cow's  tail,  straight  up 
and  down  in  my  dealins,  and  ambition  the  clean  thing.' " 

•'Straight  up  and  down!"  said  the  Doctor  aloud  to  himself; 
"  straight  up  and  down  like  a  cow's  tail.  Oh  Jupiter  !  what  a 
simile!  and  yet  it  aint  bad,  for  one  end  is  sure  to  be  in  the  dirt. 
A  man  may  be  the  straight  thing,  that  is,  right  up  and  down  like  a 
cow's  tail,  but  hang  me  if  he  can  be  the  clean  thing  anyhow  he  can 
lix  it."  And  he  stretched  out  his  feet  to  their  full  length,  put  ni-s 
hands  in  his  trowsers  pockets,  held  down  his  head,  and  i  lucked 
like  A  hen  that  is  calling  her  chiokeas.  I  vum  I  co^M  hanliy  h  ip 


64-      A     CEITTUR     WITH     A     THOUSAND     VIRTUES 

bustin'  juta  larfin  myself,  for  it  warn't  a  slow  remark  of  hisii,, 
and  showed  fun ;  in  fact,  I  was  sure  at  first  he  was  a  droll  boy. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  a  say  in*  "  sais  I  to  Mr.  Parker,  'candidly,  now, 
my  only  reason  for  partin'  with  that  are  horse  is,  that  1  want  to  go 
away  in  a  hurry  out  of  Boston,  clear  down  to  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  and  as  I  can't  take  him  with  me,  I  prefer  to  sell  him.' 

" '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  the  beast  is  mine,  and  here  is  a  check  for 
your  money.' 

'"  Well,'  sais  I,  'Parker,  take  care  of  him,  for  you  have  got  a 
fust  rate  critter.  He  is  all  sorts  of  a  horse,  and  one  that  is  all  1 
have  told  you,  and  more  too,  and  no  mistake.' 

"  Every  man  that  buys  a  new  horse  in  a  general  way,  is  in  a 
great  hurry  to  try  him.  There  is  sumthin'  very  takin'  in  a  new 
thing.  A  new  watch,  a  new  coat,  no,  I  reckon  it's  best  to  except  a 
new  spic  and  span  coat  (for  it's  too  glossy,  and  it  don't  set  easy, 
till  it's  worn  awhile,  and  perhaps  I  might  say  a  new  saddle,  for  it 
looks  as  if  you  warn't  used  to  ridin',  except  when  you  went  lo 
Meetin'  of  a  Sabbaday,  and  kept  it  covered  all  the  week,  as  a  gall 
does  her  bonnet,  to  save  it  from  the  flies ;)  but  a  new  wagon,  a 
new  sleigh,  a  new  house,  and  above  all,  a  new  wife,  has  great 
attractions.  Still  you  get  tired  of  them  all  in  a  short  while ;  you 
soon  guess  the  hour  instead  of  pullin'  out  the  watch  for  everlastin'. 
The  wagon  loses  its  novelty,  and  so  does  the  sleigh,  and  the  house 
is  surpassed  next  month  by  a  larger  and  finer  one,  and  as  you  can't 
carry  it  about  to  show  folks,  you  soon  find  it  is  too  expensive  to 
invite  them  to  come  and  admire  it.  But  the  wife;  oh,  Lord!  In 
a  general  way,  there  ain't  more  difference  between  a  grub  and  a 
butterfly,  than  between  a  sweetheart  and  wife.  Yet  the  grub  and 
the  butterfly  is  the  same  thing,  only  differently  rigged  out,  and  so 
is  the  sweetheart  and  wife.  Both  critters  crawl  about  the  house, 
and  aint  very  attractive  to  look  at,  and  both  turn  out  so  fine,  and 
so  painted  when  they  go  abroad,  you  dont  scarcely  know  them 
agin.  Both,  too,  when  they  get  out  of  doors,  seem  to  have  no 
other  airthly  object  but  to  show  themselves.  They  don't  go 
straight  there,  and  back  again,  as  if  there  was  an  end  in  view,  but 
they  first  flaunt  to  the  right,  and  then  to  the  left,  and  then  every- 
where  in  general  and  yet  nowhere  in  particular.  To  be  seen  and 
admired  is  the  object  of  both.  They  are  all  finery,  and  that  is  so 
in  their  way  they  can  neither  sit,  walk  nor  stand  conveniently  in  it. 
They  are  never  happy,  but  when  on  the  wing." 

"  Oh,  Lord  !"  said  the  Doctor  to  himself,  who  seemed  to  think 
aloud  ;  "  1  wonder  if  that  is  a  picture  or  a  caricature  ?" 

Thinks  I,  "  old  boy,  you  are  sold.  I  said  that  a  purpose  to  find 
you  out,  for  I  am  too  foitd  of  feminine  gender  to  make  fun  <-f  them. 
You  are  a  single  man.  If  you  was  married,  I  guess  you  wouldn't 
ask  that  are  question." 


AND     BUT     ONE     VICE.  66 

But  I  went  on.  "  Now  a  horse  is  different,  you  never  get  tired 
of  a  good  one.  He  don't  fizzle  out*  like  the  rest.  You  like  him 
better  and  better  every  day.  He  seems  a  part  of  yourself;  he  is 
your  better  half,  your  '  halter  hego  as  I  heard  a  cockney  once  call 
his  fancy  gall. 

'•This  bein'  the  case,  as  1  was  a  savin,'  as  soon  as  a  man  gits  a 
new  one,  he  wants  to  try  him.  So  Parker  puts  Mandarin  intt 
harness,  and  drives  away  like  wink  for  Salem,  but  when  he  came 
to  the  bridge,  the  old  coon  stopt,  put  forward  his  ears,  snorted, 
champed  his  bit,  and  stamped  his  fore  feet.  First  Parker  coaxed 
him.  but  that  did  no  good,  and  then  he  gave  him  the  whip,  and  he 
reared  straight  up  oti  end,  and  nearly  fell  over  into  his  wagon.  A 
man  that  was  crossing  over  at  the  time,  took  him  by  the  head  to 
lead  him,  when  he  suddenly  wheeled  half  round,  threw  him  in  the 
mud,  and  dragged  him  in  the  gutter,  as  he  backed  up  agin  the  side 
walk  all  stand  in'.  Parker  then  laid  on  the  whip,  hot  and  heavy  ; 
he  gave  him  a  most  righteous  lickin'.  Mandarin  returned  blow  for 
blow,  until  he  kicked  the  wagon  all  to  flinders. 

"  Well,  I  must  say  that  for  his  new  owner,  he  was  a  plucky  fel- 
low, as  well  as  Mandarin,  and  warn't  agoin'  to  cave  in  that  way. 
So  he  takes  him  back  to  the  livery  stables,  and  puts  him  into 
another  carriage,  and  off  he  starts  agin,  and  thinkin'  that  the  horse 
had  seen  or  smelt  sumtheu  at  that  bridge  to  scare  him,  he  tries 
another,  when  the  same  scene  was  acted  over  again,  only  he  was 
throwed  out.  and  had  his  clothes  nearly  tore  off.  Well,  that  after- 
noon, up  comes  Parker  to  me,  choking  with  rage. 

"'Slick,'  said  he,  'that  is  the  greatest  devil  of  a  horse  I  ever 
see.  He  has  dashed  two  carriages  all  to  shivereens,  and  nearly 
tuckard  the  innerds  out  of  me  and  another  man.  1  don't  think  you 
have  acted  honestly  by  me.' 

"  '  Parker,'  said  I,  'don't  you  use  words  that  you  don't  know  the 
mean  in1  of,  and  for  goodness  gracious  sake  don't  come  to  me  to 
teach  you  manners,  I  beseech  you,  for  I  am  a  rough  schoolmaster, 
I  tell  you.  I  answered  every  question  you  asked  me,  candidly, 
fair  and  square,  and  above  board.' 

"  '  Didn't  you  know,'  said  he,  '  that  no  living  man  could  git  that 
noise  across  a  bridge,  let  him  do  his  darndest?' 

" '  I  did,'  said  I,  '  know  it  to  my  cost,  for  he  nearly  killed  me  in 
a  fight  we  had  at  the  Salem  Pike.' 

"  *  How  could  you,  then,  tell  me,  Sir,  your  sole  reason  for  part- 
ing with  him  was,  that  you  wanted  to  leave  Boston  and  go  to 
Charleston  V 

" '  Because,  Sir,'  I  replied,  '  it  was  the  literal  truth.  Boston, 
jou  know  as  well  as  I  do,  is  almost  an  'island,  and  go  -which  way 

•  Fizzle  out — To  prove  a  failure. 


56      A     CRITTUR     WITH     A     THOUSAND     VIRTUES 

you  will,  you  must  cross  a  bridge  to  get  out  of  it.  I  said  I  wanted 
*o  quit  the.  city,  and  was  compelled  to  leave  my  horse  behind. 
How  could  I  ever  quit  the  place  with  that  tormented  beast  *  And 
warn't  I  compelled  to  leave  him  when  old  Scratch  himself  couldn't 
make  him  obey  orders  ?  •  If  I  had  a  waited  to  leave  town,  till  he 
would  cross  a  bridge,  I  should  have  had  to  have  waited  till  dooms- 
day.' 

"He  scratched  his  head,  and  looked  foolish.  'What  a  devil  of 
a  sell,'  said  he.  'That  will  be  a  standing  joke  agin  me  as  long  as 
I  live." 

"  '  I  don't  see  that,'  said  I :  '  if  you  had  been  deceived,  you  might 
have  called  it  a  sell,  but  you  bought  him  with  your  eyes  and  ears 
open,  and  a  full  knowledge  of  the  truth.  And,  after  all,  where 
will  you  go  to  better  yourself1?  for  the  most  that,  can  be  said  is, 
you  have  got  a  crittur  with  a  thousand  virtues  and  but  one  vice.'' 

"•Oh,  get  out!' said  he, 'and  let  me  alone.'  And  he  walked 
off,  and  looked  as  sheepish  as  you  please." 

"Oh  dear!"  said  the  Doctor;  "oh  dear!"  And  he  placed  his 
hands  on  his  ribs,  and  walked  round  the  room  in  a  bent  position, 
like  a  man  affected  with  colic,  and  laughed  as  if  he  was  hysterical, 
saying,  "  oh  dear  !  Oh,  Mr.  Slick,  that's  a  capital  story.  Oh,  you 
would  make  a  new  man  of  me  soon,  I  am  sure  you  would,  if  1 
was  any  time  w  ith  you.  I  haven't  laughed  before  that  \\  ay  for 
many  a  long  day.  Oh,  it  does  me  good  !  There  is  nothing  like 
fun,  is  there  I  I  haven't  any  myself,  but  I  do  like  it  in  oihers. 
Oh,  we  need  it.  We  need  all  the  counterweights  we  can  muster 
to  balance  the  sad  relations  of  life.  God  hay  made  sunny  spots  in 
the  heart ;  why  should  we  exclude  the  light  Jrom  them  ?" 

"  Stick  a  pin  in  that,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  for  it's  worth  remem- 
berin'  as  a  wise  saw." 

He  then  took  up  his  wallet,  and  retired  to  his  room  to  change 
his  clothes,  saying  to  himself,  in  an  under  tone,  "  Stick  a  pin  in  it ! 
What  a  queer  phrase  ;  and  yet  it's  expressive,  too.  It's  the  way 
1  preserve  my  insects." 

^<^The  foregoing  conversation  had  scarcely  terminated,  when  Peter's 
daughters  commenced  their  preparation  for  the  evening  meal.  And 
1  confess  I  was  never  more  surprised  than  at  the  appearance  of  the 
elder  one,  Jessie.  In  form  and  beauty,  she  far  exceeded  the  Pilot's 
high  encomiums.  She  was  taller  than  American  women  generally 
are  ;  but  she  was  so  admirably  proportioned,  and  well  developed, 
you  were  not  aware  of  her  height,  till  you  saw  her  standing  near 
her  sister.  Her  motions  were  all  quiet,  natural,  and  graceful,  and 
there  was  an  air  about  her  that  nothing  but  the  native  ease  of  a 
child  of  the  forest  or  high-bred  elegance  of  fash'onable  life  can  evjer 
impart.  She  had  the  delicate  hands,  and  sr.iall  feet,  peculiar  to 
Indian  women.  Her  hair  was  of  the  darkest  and  deepest  jet 


A  V  D      B  C  T     O  N  K     V  I  U  E  .  57 

but  t.ot  so  coars  j  as  that  of  the  aborigines ;  whilst  her  large  black 
eyes  were  ova!  in  shape,  liquid,  shaded  by  long  lashes,  and  over- 
arched by  dolicatcly-peneiU'd  brows.  Her  neck  was  long,  but  full, 
and  her  shoulders  would  have  been  the  envy  of  a  London  ball 
room.  She  was  a  perfect  model  of  a  woman. 

It  is  true  she  had  had  the  advantage,  when  young,  of  being  tho 
companion  of  the  children  of  the  Governor  of  the  fort,  and  had 
been  petted,  partially  educated,  and  patronized  by  his  wife.  But 
neither  he  nor  his  lady  could  have  imparted  what  it  is  probable 
neither  possessed,  much  polish  of  manner,  or  refinement  of  mind. 
We  hear  of  nature's  noblemen,  but  that  means  rather  manly, 
generous,  brave  fellows,  than  polished  men.  There  are,  however, 
splendid  specimens  of  men,  and  beautiful  looking  women,  among 
the  aborigines.  Extremes  meet ;  and  it  is  certain  that  the  easo 
and  grace  of  highly  civilized  life,  do  not  surpass  those  of  until 
tored  nature,  that  neither  concedes,  nor  claims  a  superiority  to 
others.  She  was  altogether  of  a  different  stamp  from  her  sister, 
who  was  a  common-looking  person,  and  resembled  the  ordinary 
f -males  to  be  found  in  savage  life.  Stout,  strong,  and  rather 
stolid,  accustomed  to  drudge  and  to  obey,  rather  than  to  be^pctted 
and  rule  ;  to  receive,  and  not  to  give  orders,  and  to  submit  from 
habit  and  choice.  One  seemed  far  above,  and  the  other  as  much 
below,  the  station  of  their  father.  Jessie,  though  reserved,  would 
converse  if  addressed  ;  the  other  rather  shunned  conversation  as 
much  as  possible. 

Both  father  and  daughters  seemed  mutually  attached  to  each 
other,  and  their  conversation  was  carried  on  with  equal  facility  in 
Indian,  French,  Gaelic,  and  English,  although  Peter  spoke  the  last 
somewhat  indifferently.  In  the  evening  a  young  man,  of  the  name 
of  Fraser,  with  his  two  sisters,  children  of  a  Highland  neighbor, 
came  in  to  visit  the  McDonalds,  and  Peter,  producing  his  violin, 
we  danced  jigs  and  reels,  in  a  manner  and  with  a  spirit  not  often 
seen  but  in  Ireland  or  Scotland.  The  Doctor,  unable  to  withstand 
the  general  excitement,  joined  in  the  dances,  with  as  much  anima- 
tion as  any  of  us,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  himself  amazingly. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  patting  me  on  the  shoulder,  "this  is 
the  true  philosophy  of  life.  But  how  is  it  with  your  disposition 
for  fun,  into  which  you  enter  with  all  your  heart,  that  you  have 
such  a  store  of  *  wise  saws.'  How  in  the  world  did  you  ever 
acquire  them  ?  for  your  time  seems  to  have  been  spent  more  in 
tin.-  active  pursuits  of  life  than  in  meditation.  Excuse  me,  I 
neither  undervalue  your  talent  nor  power  of  observation,  but  the 
union  does  not  seem  quite  natural,  it  is  so  much  out  of  the  usual 
course  of  things." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  Doctor,  you  have  been  enough  in  the  woods  to 
know  that  a  rock,  accidentally  falling  from  a  bank  into  *  brook.  o» 
3* 


68      A     CR1TTUR    WITH     A     THOUSAND     VIRTUES 


a  drift-log  catching  cross  ways  of  the  stream,  will  often  change  its 
whole  course,  and  give  it  a  different  direction  ;  haven't  you  ?  Don't 
you  know  that  the  smallest,  and  most  trivial  event,  often  contains 
coloring  matter  enough  in  it  to  change  the  whole  complexion  01 
our  life*?  For  instance,  one  Saturday,  not  long  before  I  left  school, 
and  when  I  was  a  considerable  junk  of  a  boy,  father  gave  me  leave 
to  "o  and  spend  the  day  w.th  Eb  Snell,  the  son  of  our  neighbor, 
Did  Colonel  Jephnny  Snell.  We  amused  ourselves  catching  trout 
in  the  mill-pond,  and  shooting  king-lishers,  about  the  hardest  bird 
there  is  to  kill  in  all  creation  ;  and,  between  one  arid  the  other 
sport,  you  may  depend  we  enjoyed  ourselves  first-rate.  Towards 
eveni'n',  I  heard  a  most  an  awful  yell,  and  looked  round,  and  there 
was  Eb  shoutin'  and  screainin'  at  the  tip  eend  of  his  voice,  and  a 
jumpin'  up  and  down,  as  if  he  had  been  bit  by  a  rattlesnake. 

"•What  in  natur  is  the  matter  of  you,  Eb,'  sais  1.  '  What  are  you 
a  makin'  such  an  everlastin'  touss  about  1 '  But  the  more  1  asked, 
the  more  he  wouldn't  answer.  At  last,  I  thought  I  saw  a  splash  in 
the  water,  as  if  somebody  was  making  a  de>perate  splurging  there, 
and  I  pulled  for  it,  and  raced  to  where  he  was  in  no  time,  and  sure 
enough  there  was  his  little  brother,  Zeb,  just  a  sinkin'  out  of  sight. 
So  1  makes  a  spring  in  aftir  him  in  no  time,  caught  him  by  the 
hair  of  his  head,  just  as  he  was  vamosing,  and  swam  ashore  with 
him.  The  bull-rushes  and  long  water-grass  was  considerable  thick 
there,  and  once  or  twice  1  thought  in  my  soul  1  should  have  to  let 
go  my  hold  of  the  child,  and  leave  him  to  save  my  own  life,  my 
feet  got  so  tangled  in  it ;  but  1  stuck  to  it  like  a  good  fellow, 
and  worked  my  passage  out  with  the  youngster. 

"Just  then,  down  came  the  women  folk  and  all  the  family  of 
the  Snells,  and  the  old  woman  made  right  at  me,  as  cross  as  a 
bear  that  has  cubs,  she  looked  like  a  perfect  fury. 

"  '  You  goud-for-nothin'  young  scallowag,'  said  she,  '  is  that  the 
way  you  take  care  of  that  poor  dear  little  boy,  to  let  him  fall  into 
the  pond,  and  get  half  drowned  ? ' 

"  And  she  up  and  boxed  my  ears  right  and  left,  till  sparks  came 
out  of  my  eyes  like  a  blacksmith's  chimney,  and  my  hat,  which 
was  all  soft  with  water,  got  the  crown  knocked  in,  in  the  scuffle, 
and  was  as  flat  as  a  pancake. 

"  '  What's  all  this,'  sais  Colonel  Jephunny,  who  came  runnm' 
out  of  the  mill.  '  Eb,'  sais  he,  'what's  all  this  ? ' 

"  Well,  the  critter  was  so  frightened  he  couldn't  do  nothin',  but 
jump  up  and  down,  nor  say  a  word,  but  '  Sam,  Sara ! ' 

"  So  the  old  man  seizes  a  stick,  and  catchin'  one  of  my  hands  in 
his,  turned  to,  and  gave  me  a  most  an  awful  hidin'.  lie  cut  me 
into  ribbons  a'tiost. 

"  '  I'll  teach  you,'  he  said,  '  you  villain,  to  throw  a  child  into  the 
water  arter  that  fashin.'  And  he  turned  to,  and  at  it  agin,  as  hard 


AKD     BUT     ONE     TICK.  5S 

a-  he  could  lay  on.  I  believe  in  my  soul  he  would  ha*  e  nearly 
killed  me,  if  it  hadn't  a  been  for  a  great  big  nigger  wench  he  had, 
called  Rose.  My  !  what  a  slash'm'  large  woman  that  was  ;  half 
horse,  half  alligator,  with  a  cross  of  the  mammoth  in  her.  She 
wore  a  man's  hat  and  jacket,  and  her  petticoat  had  stuff  enough  in 
it  to  make  the  mainsail  of  a  boat.  Her  foot  was  as  long  and  as 
flat  as  a  snow-shoe,  and  her  hands  looked  as  shapeless  and  as  hard 
as  two  large  sponges  froze  solid.  Her  neck  was  as  thick  as 
bull's,  and  her  scalp  was  large  and  woolly  enough  for  a  door-mat. 
She  was  as  strong  as  a  moose,  and  as  ugly  too ;  and  her  grea 
white  pointed  teeth  was  a  caution  to  a  shark. 

"  '  Hullo,'  sais  she,  '  here's  the  devil  to  pay,  and  no  pitch  hot. 
Are  you  agoin'  to  kill  that  boy,  massa?"  and  she  seized  hold  of 
me  and  took  me  away  from  him,  and  caught  me  up  in  her  arms  as 
easy  as  if  I  was  a  doll. 

"'Here's  a  pretty  hurrahs  nest,'  sais  she,  '  let  me  see  one  of  you 
dare  to  lay  hands  on  this  brave  pickiniiny.  He  is  more  of  a  man 
than  the  whole  biiiti'  of  you  put  together.  My  poor  child,'  said 
she,  '  they  have  used  you  scandalous,  ridiculous,  and  she  held 
down  her  nasty  oily  shiny  face  and  kissed  me,  till  she  nearly 
smothered  me,  Oh,  Doctor,  1  shall  never  forget  that  scene  the 
longest  day  I  ever  live.  She  might  a  been  Rose  by  name,  but  she 
war nt  one  by  nature,  I  tell  you.  When  niggers  get  their  dander 
raised,  and  their  ekenezer  fairly  up,  they  ain't  otter  of  roses,  that's 
a  fact ;  whatever  Mrs.  Stowe  may  say.  Oh,  I  kicked  and  yelled 
and  coughed  like  anything. 

'• '  Poor  dear  buy,  she  said,  '  Rose  ain't  a  goin'  to  hurt  her  own 
brave  child,'  not  she,  and  she  kissed  me  again,  and  again,  till  1 
thought  1  should  have  fainted.  She  actually  took  away  my  breath. 

" '  Come,'  said  she,  and  she  set  me  down  on  my  feet.  '  Come  to 
the  house,  lill  I  put  some  dry  clothes  on  you,  and  I'll  make  some 
lasses  candy  for  you  with  my  own  hands ! '  But  as  soon  as  I 
touched  land,  I  streaked  off  for  home,  as  hard  as  I  could  lay  legs  to 
(he  ground  ;  but  the  perfume  of  old  Kose  set  me  a  sneezing  so,  I 
fairly  blew  up  the  dust  in  the  road,  as  1  went,  as  if  a  bull  had  been 
pawin'  of  it,  and  left  a  great  wet  streak  behind  me  as  if  a  watering 
pot  had  passed  that  way.  Who  should  1  meet  when  1  returned, 
but  mother  standin'  at  the  door. 

"'Why,  Sarn,'  said  she,  'what  under  the  sun  is  the  matter? 
What  a  spot  of  work  ?  Where  in  the  world  have  you  been  ?' 

"'  In  the  mill  pond,'  said  I. 

4i'  In  the  mill  pond,'  said  she,  slowly  ;  'and  ruinated  that  beau- 
tiful new  coat,  1  made  out  of  your  father's  old  one,  and  turned  so 
nicely  for  you.  You  are  more  trouble  to  me  than  all  the  rest  of 
the  bo\ s  put  together.  Go  right  off  to  your  room  this  blessed 


60       ACBITTUR     MITH     A     THOUSAND     V  I  K  T  V  K  8 

instant  minite,  and  go  to  bed  and  say  your  prayers    and  ren<J«f 
thanks  for  savin'  your  clothes,  if  you  did  lose  your  life. 

'•'  I  wish  I  had  lost  my  life,'  said  I. 

"'Wish  you  had  lost  your  life?'  said  she.  'Why  you  mise- 
rable, unsarcumsised,  unjustified,  graceless  boy.  Why  do  you 
-wish  you  had  lost  your  life?  ' 

"'Phew,'  said  1,  'was  you  ever  kissed  by  a  nigger ?  because,  if 
you  was,  ['guess  vou  wouldn't  have  asked  that  are  question,'  and 
1  sneezed  so  hard  I  actually  blew  down  the  wire  cage,  the  door 
flew  open,  and  the  cat  made  a  spring  like  wink  and  killed  the 
canarv  bird. 

':Sam,  Sam,'  said  she,  ('skat,  skat,  you  nasty  devil,  you— you 
have  got  the  knary,  I  do  declare.)  Sarn  !  Sam  !  to  think  1  should 
have  Jived  to  hear  you  ask  your  mother  if  she  had  ever  been  kissed 
by  a  nigger !'  and  she  began  to  boohoo  right  out.  '  1  do  believe 
in  my  soul  you  are  drunk,  Sam,'  said  she. 

'"1  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  was,'  said  1,  '  for  I  have  drunk  enough 
to-day  to  serve  a  cow  and  a  calf  for  a  week.' 

"  '  Go  right  off  to  bed,  my  poor  dear  bird,'  said  she.  '  And 
when  your  father  comes  in  1  will  send  him  to  your  cage.  You 
shall  be  punished  for  this.' 

"  'I  don't  care,'  sais  I,  for  I  was  desperate  and  didn't  mind  what 
happened,  '  who  you  send,  providin'  you  don't  send  black  Rose, 
the  nigger  wench,  to  me.' 

"  Well,  in  about  an  hour  or  so,  I  heard  father  come  to  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  and  call  out  '  Sam,'  I  didn't  answer  at  first,  but  went 
and  threw  the  winder  open  ready  for  a  jump. 

"Thinks  I,  'Sam,  you  are  in  great  luck  to-day.  1st.  You  got 
nearly  drowned,  savin'  that  little  brat  Zeb  Snellns.  2nd.  You  lost 
a  bran  new  hat,  and  spoilt  your  go  to  meetin'  clothes.  3rd.  Mrs. 
Snell  boxed  your  ears  till  your  eyes  shot  stars,  like  rockets.  4th. 
You  got  an  all  fired  licking  from  old  Colonel  Jephunny,  till  he 
made  a  mulatto  of  you,  and  you  was  half  black  and  half  white. 
5th.  You  got  kissed  and  pysoned  by  that  great  big  emancipated 
she-nigger  wench.  6th.  You  have  killed  your  mother's  canary, 
bird,  and  she  has  jawed  you  till  she  went  into  hysterics.  7th. 
Here's  the  old  man  a  goin'  to  give  you  another  walloping  and  all 
for  nothin.'  I'll  cut  and  run,  and  dot  drot  me  if  1  don't,  for  ii's 
tarnation  all  over.' 

"'Sain,'  sais  father  again,  a  raisin'  of  his  voice. 

" '  Father,'  sais  I,  '  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  am  very  sorry  for  what 
I  have  clone,  and  I  think  I  have  been  punished  enough.  If  you 
will  piomise  to  let  me  off  this  time,  1  will  take  my  oath  I -will 
never  save  another  person  from  drowning  again,  the  longest  day  1 
ever  live,' 


A  >•  D     B  U  T     O  >•  K      V  1  C  K  .  61 

** '  Come  down.'  said  he,  '  when  I  tell  you,  I  am  goin'  to  reward 
you.' 

"  'Thank  you,'  sais  I,  '  I  have  been  rewarded  already  more  than 
I  deserve.' 

••  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  we  concluded  a  treaty  of 
peace,  and  down  I  went,  and  there  was  Colonel  Snell,  who  said  he 
had  drove  over  to  beg  my  pardon  for  the  wrong  he  had  done  to  me, 
and  said  he,  'Sam,  come  to  me  at  ten  o'clock  on  Monday,  and  I 
will  put  you  in  a  way  to  make  your  fortune,  as  a  recompense  for 
saving  my  child's  life.' 

"  Well,  I  kept  the  appointment,  tho'  I  was  awful  skared  about 
old  Rose  kissin'  of  me  again  ;  and  sais  he,  '  Sam,  I  want  to  show 
you  my  establishment  for  making  wooden  clocks.  One  o'  them 
can  be  manufactured  for  two  dollars,  scale  of  prices  then.  '  Come 
to  me  for  three  months,  and  I  will  teach  you  the  trade,  only  you 
musn't  carry  it  on  in  Connecticut,  to  undermine  me.'  1  did  so, 
and  thus  accidentally  I  became  a  clockmaker. 

"To  sell  my  wares  I  came  to  Nova  Scotia.  By  a  similar  acci- 
dent 1  met  the  Squire  in  this  province,  and  made  his  acquaintance. 
I  wrote  a  journal  of  our  tour,  and  for  want  of  a  title  he  put  my 
name  to  it,  and  called  it  'Sam  Slick,  the  Clockmaker.'  That  b»ok 
introduced  me  to  General  Jackson,  and  he  appointed  me  attache  to 
our  embassy  to  England,  and  that  again  led  to  Mr.  Polk  making 
me  'Commissioner  of  the  Fisheries,'  which,  in  its  turn,  was  the 
means  of  my  having  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance,"  and  I  made 
him  a  scrape  of  my  hind  leg. 

"Now,"  sais  I,  "all  this  came  from  the  accident  of  my  bavin* 
saved  a  child's  life,  one  day.  1  owe  my  'wise  saws'  to  a  similar 
accident.  My  old  master,  and  friend,  that  you  have  read  of  in  my 
books,  Mr.  Ilopewell,  was  chock  full  of  them.  He  used  to  call 
them  wisdom  boiled  down  to  an  essence,  concretes,  and  I  don't 
know  what  all.  He  had  a  book  full  of  English,  French,  Spanish, 
Italian,  German,  and  above  all,  Bible  ones.  Well,  he  used  to  make 
me  learn  them  by  heart  for  lessons,  till  1  was  fairly  sick  and  tired  to 
icath  of  'em. 

"'Minister,'  sais  I,  one  day,  'what  under  the  sun  is  the  use  of 
them  old,  musty,  fusty  proverbs.  A  boy  might  as  wejl  wear  his 
father's  boots,  and  ride  in  his  long  stirups,  as  talk  in  maxims,  it 
would  only  set  other  boys  a  laughin'  at  him.' 

"  '  Sam,'  sais  he,  '  you  don't  understand  them  now,  and  you  don't 
understand  your  Latin  grammar,  tho'  you  can  say  them  both  ofl 
by  heart.  But  you  will  see  the  value  of  one  when  you  come  to 
know  the  world,  and  the  other,  when  you  come  to  knew  the  lan- 
guage. The"  latter  will  make  you  a  good  scholar,  and  the  former  a 
wise  man ' 

'  Minister  was  light,  Doctor.     A«  I  came  to  read  the  nook  of 


<J2  A     NEW     WAY     TO     LEARN     GAELIC. 

life,  1  soon  began  to  understand,  appreciate,  and  apply  my  proverbs. 
Maxims  are  deductions  ready  drawn,  and  better  expressed  than  1 
tould  do  them,  to  save  my  soul  alive.  Now,  I  have  lamed  to  make 
them  myself.  I  have  acquired  the  habit,  as  my  brother,  the  law- 
yer, sais,  '  of  extracting  the  principle  from  cases.'  Do  you  take  * 
I  am  not  the  accident  of  an  accident;  for  I  believe  the  bans  of 
marriage  were  always  duly  published  in  our  family  ;  but  I  am  the 
accident  of  an  incident." 

"  There  is  a  great  moral  in  that,  too,  Mr.  Slick,"  he  said.  "  How 
important  is  conduct,  when  the  merest  trifle  may  carry  in  its  train 
misery  or  happiness  of  >our  future  life." 

"  Stick  a  pin  in  that  also,  Doctor,"  said  I. 

Here  Cutler  and  the  Pilot  cut  short  our  conversation  by  going 
on  board.  But  Peter  wouldn't  hear  of  my  leaving  his  house,  and 
1  accordingly  spent  the  night  there,  not  a  little  amused  with  my 
new  acquaintances. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    NEW    WAY    TO    LEARN    GAELIC. 

AFTER  the  Captain  and  the  Pilot  had  retired,  sais  I,  "  Miss  Jessie, 
sposin  we  young  folks— (ah,  me,  it  is  time  to  get  a  new  word,  I 
guess,  for  that  one  has  been  used  so  long,  it's  e'en  amost  worn  out 
now)— sposin  we  young  folks  leave  the  "Doctor  and  your  father  to 
finish  their  huntin'  stories,  and  let  us  go  to  the  other  room,  and 
have  a  dish  of  chat  about  things  in  general,  and  sweethearts  in  par- 
ticular." 

"Oh,  we  live  too  much  alone  here,"  said  she,  "  to  know  anything 
of  such  matters,  but  we  will  go  if  you  will  promise  to  tell  us  one 
of  your  funny  stories.  They  say  you  have  written  a  whole  book- 
full  of  them  ;  how  I  should  like  to  see  it 

"  Would  you  ?»  said  I,  "  Miss,  well,  then,  you  shall  have  one,  for 
I  have  a  copy  on  board,  I  believe,  and  I  shall  be  only  too  proud  if 
you  wil  read  it  to  remember  me  by.  But  my  best  stories  aint  in 
my  books.  Somehow  or  another,  when  I  want  them  they  won't 
come  and  at  other  times  when  I  get  agoin'  talkin',  I  can  string  them 
together  like  onions,  one  after  the  other,  till  the  twine  is  out.  I 
have  a  heap  of  them,  but  they  are  all  mixed  and  confused  like  in 
my  mind,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  never  could  find  the  one  I  need.  Do 
you  work  in  worsted,  Miss  ?" 

'•  Well,  a  little,"  sais  she.'    «  It  is  only  town-bred  girls,  who  hav. 


A     NEW     WAT     TO     J.  EARN     GAELIC.  63 

nothing  to  attend  to  but  their  dress,  and  to  go  to  balls,  tha*  have 
leisure  to  amuse  themselves  that  way  ;  but  I  can  work  a  little, 
though  I  never  could  do  anythin'  fit  to  be  seen  or  examined." 

"  1  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  1,  and  I  paused,  and  she  looked  as  if 
she  didn't  over  half  like  my  taking  her  at  her  word  that  way.  "  I 
Wouldn't  wonder,"  said  I,  "  for  1  am  sure  your  eyes  would  fode 
tne  color  out  of  the  worsted." 

"Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  drawing  herself  up  a  bit,  "wha 
nonsense  you  do  talk,  what  a  quiz  you  be." 

"  Fact,"  sais  I,  "  Miss,  1  assure  you,  never  try  it  again,  you  will 
be  sure  to  spoil  it.  But  as  I  was  a  say  in,'  Miss,  when  you  see  a 
thread  of  a  particular  color,  you  know  whether  you  have  any  mor 
like  it  or  not,  so  when  a  man  tells  me  a  story,  I  know  whether  I 
have  one  of  the  same  kind  to  match  it  or  not,  and  if  so,  I  know 
where  to  lay  my  hand  on  it ;  but  I  must  have  a  clue  to  my  yarns." 

Squire,  there  is  something  very  curious  about  memory  ;  1  don't 
think  there  is  such  a  thing  as  total  foigetfulness.  I  used  once  to 
think  there  was,  but  I  don't  now.  It  used  to  seem  to  me  that 
;liings  rusted  out,  but  now  it  appears  as  if  they  were  only  mis- 
placed,  or  overlaid,  or  stowed  away  like  where  you  can't  find 
/hem  ;  but  depend  on  it,  when  once  there,  they  remain  fo  ever. 
How  onen  you  are  asked,  "Don't  \ou  recollect  this  or  that?"  and 
you  answer,  *'  No,  I  never  heard,  or  saw  it,  or  read  it,"  as  the  case 
may  be.  And  when  the  time,  and  place,  and  circumstances  are 
(old  you,  you  say,  ''Stop  a  bit,  I  do  now  mind  something  about  it, 
uarn't  it  so  and  so,*or  this  way,  or  that  way,"  and  finally  up  it 
comes,  all  f'rosn  to  your  recollection.  Well,  until  you  get  the  clue 
given  you,  or  tne  key  note  is  struck,  you  are  ready  to  take  your 
oath  you  never  heard  of  it  afore..  Memory  has  many  cells.  Some 
of  them  aint  used  much,  and  dust  and  cobwebs  get  about  them, 
and  you  can't  tell  where  the  hinge  is,  or  can't  easily  discern  the 
st-cret  spring  ;  but  open  it  once,  and  wha  ever  is  stowed  away  there 
is  as  safe  and  sound  as  ever.  1  have  a  good  many  capital  stories 
poKed  away  in  them  cubby-holes,  that  i  can't  just  lay  my  hand  on 
when  I  want  to,  but  now  and  then,  when  looking  for  something 
else.  I  stumble  upon  them  by  accident.  Tell  you  what,  as  for  for- 
gettin'  a  thing  teetotally,  1  don't  believe  there  is  sich  a  thing  in 
natur.  But  to  get  back  to  my  story. 

"M\ss,"  sais  I,  "I  can't  just  at  this  present  moment  call  to  mind 
a  story  to  please  you.  Some  of  them  are  about  bosses,  or  clocks, 
or  rises  taken  out  of  folks,  or  dreams,  or  courtships,  or  ghosts,  or 
what  not ;  but  few  of  them  will  answer,  for  they  are  either  too 
short  or  too  long." 

*' Oh,"  says  Catherine  Fraser,  "tell  us  a  courtship;  I  dare  say 
you  will  m:  ke  great  fun  of  it." 


64  A     NEW     WAY     TO     LEARN     GAELIC. 

"  No,  no,"  says  Jessie,  "  tell  us  a  ghost  story.  Oh !  I  delight  in 
them." ' 

"  Oh,"  said  Janet,  "tell  us  about  a  dream.  I  know  one  myself 
which  came  out  as  correct  as  provin'  a  sum." 

"That's  it,  Miss  Janet,"  said  1;  "do  you  tell  me  that  story, 
please,  and  it's  hard  if  1  can't  find  one  that  will  please  you  in  return 
for  it." 

"Yes,  do,  dear,''  said  Tessie  ;  "  tell  Mr.  Slick  that  story,  for  it' 
a  true  one,  and  I  should  like  to  hear  what  he  thinks  of  it,  or  hotf 
he  can  account  for  it."     \/ 

"  Well,"  said  Janet,  "yrrn  must  excuse  me,  Mr.  Slick,  for  any 
mistakes  I  make,  for  1  don't  speak  very  good  English,  and  I  can 
hardly  tell  a  story  all  through  in  that  language. 

"I  have  a  brother  that  Jives  up  one  of  the  branches  of  the 
Buctouche  River  in  New  Brunswick.  lie  bought  a  tract  of  land 
there  four  or  five  years  ago,  on  which  there  was  a  house  and  barn, 
and  about  a  hundred  acres  of  cleared  land.  lie  made  extensive 
improvements  on  it  and  went  to  a  great  expense  in  clearing  up  the 
stumps,  and  buying  stock  and  farming  implements,  and  what  not. 
One  season,  between  plantin'  and  harvest,  he  run  short  of  money 
for  his  common  daily  use,  and  to  pay  some  little  debts  he  owed, 
and  he  was  very  dull  about  it.  He  said  he  knew  he  could  come 
here  and  borrow  it  from  father,  but  he  didn't  like  to  be  away  from 
home  so  long,  and  hardly  knew  how  the  family  was  to  get  on  or 
to  pay  the  wages  till  his  return,  so  it  was  agreed  that  1  was  to  go 
the  next  Monday  in  a  vessel  bound  for  Halifax  and  bring  him 
what  he  wanted. 

"  At  that  time,  he  had  a  field  back  in  the  woods  he  was  cultiva- 
ting. Between  that  and  the  front  on  the  river,  was  a  p<*>r  sand- 
flat  covered  with  spruce,  birch,  and  poplar,  and  not  worth  the 
expense  of  bringing  to  for  the  plough.  The  road  to  the  back  field 
ran  through  this  wood  land.  He  was  very  low-spirited  about  his 
situation,  for  he  said  if  he  was  to  borrow  the  money  of  a  merchant, 
he  would  require  a  mortgage  on  his  place,  and  perhaps  sell  it 
before  he  knew  where  he  was.  Well,  that  night  he  woke  up  his 
wife,  and  said  to  her, 

•'Mary,'  said  he,  'I  have  had  a  very  curious  dream  just  now.  I 
]  reamed  that  as  1  was  going  out  to  the  back  lot  with  the  ox-cart,  I 
Knind  a  large  sum  of  money  all  in  dollars  in  the  road  there. 

"'Well,'  says  Mary,  '  1  wish  it  was  true,  John,  but  it  is  t«>o 
good  news  fur  us.  The  worriment  we  have  had  about  money 
lately  has  set  you  a  dreaming.  Janet  sails  on  Monday,  she  will 
soon  be  back,  and  then  it  will  all  be  right :  so  20  to  sleep  again, 
dear.' 

"Well,  in  the  morning,  when  he  and  his  wife  got  up,  he  never 
•poke  or  thought  an}  more  about  the  dream,  but  as  soon  as  break. 


A     NEW     WAT     TO     LEAEN     GAELIC.  65 

last  was  over,  he  and  his  man  yoked  up  the  oxen,  put  them  to  the 
cart,  and  lifted  the  harrow  into  it,  and  started  for  the  field.  The 
servant  drove  the  team,  and  John  walked  In-hind  with  his  head 
down,  a  turning  over  in  his  mind  whether  he  couldn't  sell  some- 
thing otl'the  farm  to  keep  matters  a-goin'  till  I  should  return,  when, 
all  at  once  as  they  were  passing  through  the  wood,  he  observed 
that  there  was  a  line  of  silver  dollars  turned  up  by  one  of  the 
wheels  of  the  cart,  and  continued  for  the  space  of  sixty  feet,  and 
then  ceased. 

"  The  moment  he  saw  the  money,  he  thought  of  his  dream,  and 
he  was  so  overjoyed  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  calling  out  to  the 
man  to  stop,  but  he  thought  it  was  more  prudent  as  they  were 
alone  in  the  woods  to  say  nothing  about  it.  So  he  walked  on,  and 
joined  the  driver,  and  kept  him  in  talk  for  a  while.  And  then,  as 
if  he  had  suddenly  thought  of  something,  said,  '  Jube,  do  you  pro- 
ceed to  the  field  and  go  to  work  till  1  come.  1  shall  have  to  go  to 
the  house  for  a  short  time.' 

"  Well,  as  soon  as  he  got  out  of  sight  of  the  cart,  off  he  ran 
home  as  hard  as  he  could  lay  legs.to  it,  only  stopping  to  take  up  a 
handful  of  the  coins  to  make  sure  they  were  real. 

••'Mary,  Alary,'  sais  he,  'the  dream  has  come  true;  I  have 
found  the  money— see  here  is  some  of  it;  there  is  no  mistake;' 
and  he  threw  a  few  pieces  down  on  the  hearth  and  rung  them* 
'They  are  genuine  Spanish  crowns.  Do  you  and  Janet  bring  the 
market  basket,  while  I  go  for  a  couple  of  hoes,  and  let  us  gather  it 
all  up.1 

"  Well,  sure  enough,  when  we  came  to  the  place  he  mentioned, 
there  was  the  wheel-track  full  of  dollars.  He  and  1  hoed  each  side 
of  the  rut,  which  seemed  to  be  in  a  sort  of  yellow  powder,  like  the 
dust  of  rotten  wood,  and  got  out  all  we  could  find.  We  afterwards 
tried  under  the  opposite  wheel,  and  behind  and  before  the  rut,  but 
could  find  no  more,  and  when  we  got  home  we  counted  it,  and 
found  we  had  eighty-two  pounds,  five  shillings. 

" '  Well,  this  is  a  God  send,  Mary,  aint  it  ?  said  brother,  and 
she  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  cried  for  joy  as  she 
kissed  him.'" 

"  Which  way,  said  I,  "show  me,  Miss,  how  she  did  it,  only  you 
may  laugh  instead  of  crying,  if  you  like." 

'•  Xot  being  a  wife,"  said  she,  with  great  quickness,  "  I  cannot 
show  you  myself,  but  you  may  imagine  it ;  it  will  do  just  as  well, 
or  dream  it,  and  that  will  do  better. 

'*  Well,  John  was  a  scrupulous  man,  and  he  was  determined  to 
restore  the  money,  if  he  could  find  an  owner  for  it ;  but  he  could 
hear  of  no  one  who  had  lost  any,  nor  any  tradition  in  that  place 
that  an}  one  ever  had  done  so  since  the  first  settlement  of  the 
?ouutry.  All  that  he  could  discover  uas,  that  about  forty  y«  aw 


gg  A     N  K  \y      WAV     TO      I.  E  A  R  N     GAELIC. 

before,  an  old  Frenchman  had  lived  somewhere  thereabouts  alone, 
in  the 'midst  of  the  woods.  Who  he  was,  or  what  became  of  him, 
nobody  knew  ;  all  he  could  hear  was,  that  a  party  of  lumbermen 
had  some  years  afterwards,  found  his  house  amidst  a  second 
growth  of  young  wood,  that  wholly  concealed  it,  and  that  it 
contained  his  furniture,  cooking  utensils,  and  trunks,  as  he  had 
left  them.  Some  supposed  he  had  been  devoured  by  bears  or 
wolves;  others,  that  he  had  been  lost  in  the  woods  ;  and  some, 
that  he  had  died  by  his  own  hands. 

"  On  hearing  this,  John  went  to  examine  his  habitation,  or  the 
remains  of  it,  and  he  found  that  about  four  acres  around  it  were 
covered  with  the  second  growth,  as  it  is  called,  which  was  plainly 
to  be  distinguished  from  the  forest,  as  the  trees  were  not  only  not 
so  large,  or  so  old  as  the  neighboring  ones,  but,  as  is  always  the 
case,  were  of  a  different  description  of  wood  altogether.  On  a 
careful  inspection  of  the  spot  where  he  found  the  money,  it 
appeared  that  the  wheel  had  passed  lengthways  along  an  enor- 
mous old  decayed  pine,  in  the  hollow  of  which  he  supposed  the 
money  must  have  been  hid  ;  and  when  the  tree  fell,  the  dollars 
had  rolled  along  its  centre  fifty  feet  or  more,  and  remained  there 
until  the  wood  was  rotten,  and  had  crumbled  into  dust. 

\>{'  There,  Sir,  there  is  my  story  ;  it  is  a  true  one,  I  assure  you, 
for  1  was  present  at  the  time.     What  do  you  think  of  it "?  " 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  if  he  had  never  heard  a  rumor,  nor  had  any 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  money  had  been  hid  there,  why  it  was 
a  singular  thing,  and  looks  very  much  like  a " 

"  Like  a  what,"  said  she. 

"  Like  a  supply  that  one  couldn't  count  upon  a  second  time, 
lhat's  all." 

"  It's  a  dream  that  was  fulfilled,  though,"  she  said  ;  "  and  that 
don't  often  happen,  does  it  ?  "* 

"Unless,"  sais  1,  "a  young  lady  was  to  dream  now,  that  she 
was,  a  going  to  be  married  to  a  certain  person,  and  that  does 
often  come  true.  Do  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  said  she.  "Come,  do  you  tell  us  your  story 
now,  you  know  you  promised  me  you  would,  if  I  related  mine." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Jessie ;  "  come  now,  Mr.  Slick,  that's  a  good 
nan,  do  1  " 

Sais  1,  "  Miss,  I  will  give  you  my  book  instead,  and  that  will 
.ell  you  a  hundred  of  them." 

"Yes,  but  when  will  you  give  it  to  me  ?"  she  replied. 

*'  To-morrow,"  said  I,  "  as  soon  as  1  go  on  board.     But   mind. 

*  The  names  of  the  persons  and  river  are  alone  changed  in  this  extraordinary 
"lory.  Ihe  actor,  are  still  living,  and  are  persons  of  undoubted  veracity  and 

•  esptv.  lability . 


A     NEW     WAT     TO     L  F.  A  R  N     GAELIC.  67 

there  is  one  condition."  And  I  said  in  Gaelic :  "  Feumifth  thu  pog 
thoir  dhomh  eur  a  shon\  (you  must  give  me  a  kiss  fur  it.") 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  lookiii'  not  over  pleased,  I  consaited  ;  but,  per- 
haps,  it  was  because  the  other  girls  laughed  like  anything,  as  if  it 
was  a  capital  joke,  "  that's  not  fair ;  ^ou  said  you  would  give  it, 
and  now  you  want  to  sell  it.  If  that's  the  case,  1  will  pay  the 
money  for  it." 

"  Oh,  fie,"  sais  T,  u  Miss  Jessie." 

"  Well,  1  want  to  know  !" 

"  No,  indeed  ;  what  I  meant  was  to  give  \  ou  that  book  to  re- 
member me  by  when  1  am  far  away  from  here,  and  I  wanted 
you  to  give  me  a  little  token  0  do  bhikan  boidheuch  (from  your 
pretty  lips,)  that  I  should  remember  the  longest  day  I  live." 

"  You  mean  that  you  would  go  away,  laugh,  and  forget  righl 
oft*.  No,  that  won't  do,  but  if  you  must  have  a  token  I  will  look 
up  some  little  keepsake  to  exchange  for  it.  "Oh,  dear,  what  a 
horrid  idea,"  she  said,  quite  scorney  like,  "  to  trade  for  a  kiss  ;  it's 
the  way  father  buys  his  fish,  he  gives  salt  for  them,  or  flour,  or 
some  such  barter,  oh,  Mr.  Slick,  1  don't  think  much  of  you.  But 
for  goodness  gracious  sake  how  did  you  learn  Gaelic1?" 

"  From  lips,  dear,"  said  I,  "  and  that's  the  reason  I  shall  never 
forget  it," 

"  No,  no,"  said  she,  "  but  how  on  earth  did  you  ever  pick  it  up." 

"  1  didn't  pick  it  up,  Miss,"  said  I,  "  I  kissed  it  up,  and  as  you 
want  a  story  I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  as  any  other." 

"  It  depends  upon  what  sort  of  a  story  it  is."  said  she,  coloring. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  Campbell  girls  who  didn't  appear  quite  so 
skittish  as  she  was,  "  do  tell  us,  no  doubt  you  will  muke  a  funny 
one  out  of  it.  Come,  begin."  , 

Squire,  you  are  older  than  I  be,  and  I  suppose  you  will  think 
all  this  sort  of  thing  is  clear  sheer  nonsense,  but  depend  upon  it  a 
kiss  is  a  great  mystery.  There  is  many  a  thing  we  know  that  we 
can't  explain,  still  we  are  sure  it  is  a  fact  for  all  that.  Why 
should  there  be  a  sort  of  magic  in  shaking  hands,  which  seems 
only  a  mere  form,  and  sometimes  a  painful  one  too,  for  some  folks 
wring  your  fingers  offamost  and  make  you  fairly  dance  with  pain, 
they  hurt  you  so.  It  don't  give  much  pleasure  at  any  time. 
What  the  magic  of  it  is,  we  can't  tell,  but  so  it  is  for  all  that.  It 
seems  only  a  custom  like  bowing  and  nothing  else,  still  there  is 
more  in  it  than  meets  the  eye.  But  a  kiss  fairly  electrifies  you,  it 
warms  your  blood  and  sets  your  heart  a  beatin'  like  a  brass  drum, 
and  makes  your  eyes  twinkle  like  stars  in  a  frosiy  night.  Jt  tante 
a  thing  ever  to  be  forgot.  No  language  can  express  it,  no  letters 
will  give  the  sound.  Then  what  in  natur  is  equal  to  the  flavor  of 
it  ?  What  an  aroma  it  has  !  How  spiritual  it  is.  It  ain't  gross. 
*V>r  \  ou  can't  feed  on  it,  it  Jon't  cloy,  for  the  palate  ain't  required 


63  A     NEW     WAV     TO     LEAKS     GAELIC. 

to  test  its  taste.  It  is  neither  visible,  nor  tangible,  nor  portable, 
nor  transferable.  It  is  not  a  substance,  nor  a  liquid,  nor  a  vapor. 
It  has  neither  color  nor  form.  Imagination  can't  conceive  it.  It 
can't  be  imitated  or  forged.  It  is  confined  to  no  clime  or  country, 
but  is  ubiquitous.  It  is  disembodied  when  completed,  but  is  in- 
stantly reproduced  and  so  is  immortal.  It  is  as  old  as  the  creation 
and  yet  is  as  young  and  fresh  as  ever.  It  pre-existed,  still  exists, 
and  always  will  exist,  It  pervades  all  natur.  The  breeze  as  it 
passes  kisses  the  rose,  and  the  pendant  vine  stoops  down  and  hides 
with  its  tendrils  its  blushes,  as  it  kisses  the  limpid  stivam  that 
waits  in  an  eddy  to  meet  it,  and  raises  its  tiny  waves,  like  anxious 
lips  to  receive  it.  Depend  upon  it  Eve  learned  it  in  Paradise,  and 
was  taught  its  beauties,  virtues  and  varieties  by  an  angel,  there  ia 
something  so  transcendent  in  it, 

How  it  is  adapted  to  all  circumstances  !  There  is  the  kiss  of 
welcome  and  of  parting,  the  long-lingering,  loving  present  one,  the 
stolen  or  the  mutual  one,  the  kiss  of  lovo,  of  joy,  and  of  sorrow, 
the  seal  of  promise,  and  the  receipt  of  fulfilment.  Is  it  strange 
therefore  that  a  woman  is  invincible  whose  armory  consists  of 
kisses,  smiles,  sighs,  and  tears  ?  Is  it  any  wonder  that  poor  old 
Adam  was  first  tempted,  and  then  ruined  ?  It  is  very  easy  for 
preachers  to  get  up  with  long  faces,  and  tell  us  he  ought  to  have 
been  more  of  a  man.  My  opinion  is,  if  he  had  been  less  of  a  man, 
it  would  have  been  better  for  him.  But  I  am  not  agoin'  to  preach  ; 
so  I  will  get  back  to  my  story;  but,  Squire,  I  shall  always  main- 
tain to  my  dying  day,  that  kissing  is  a  sublime  mystery. 
/  "  Well,"  sais  1,  "  ladies,  I  was  broughten  up  to  home,,  on  my 
father's  farm,  and  my  edecation,  what  little  I  had  of  it.  I  got  from 
the  Mini-ter  of  Slickville,  Mr.  Joshua  Ilopewell,  who  was  a  friend 
df  my  father's,  and  was  one  of  the  best  men,  I  believe,  that  ever 
lived.  He  was  all  kindness,  and  all  gentleness,  and  was,  at  the 
same  time,  one  of  the  most  learned  men  in  the  United  States.  He 
took  a  great  fancy  to  me,  and  spared  no  pains  with  my  schooling, 
and  I  owe  everything  1  have  in  the  world  to  his  instruction.  I 
didn't  mix  much  with  other  boys,  and,  from  living  mostly  with 
people  older  than  myself,  acquired  an  old-fashioned  way  that  I 
have  never  been  able  to  shake  off  yet ;  all  the  boys  called  me  "  Old 
Slick."  In  course,  1  didn't  learn  much  of  life  that  way.  All  1 
knew  about  the  world  beyond  our  house  and  hisin,  was  from  books, 
and  from  hearing  him  talk,  and  he  convarsed  better  than- any  book 
1  ever  set  eyes  on.  Well,  in  course  I  grew  up  unsophisticated 
like,  and  I  think  1  may  say  1  was  as  innocent  a  voung  man  as  ever 
you  see." 

Oh,  how  they  all  laughed  at  that !  '•  You  ever  innocent !"  said 
they.  «  Come,  that's  good  ;  we  like  it ;  it's  capital !  Sam  Slick 
an  innocent  boy  !  Well,  that  must  have  been  before  v<.u 


A     NEW     WAY     TO     LKAKN     GAELIC.  69 

weaned,  or  talked  in  joining  hand,  at  any  rate.  How  simple  we 
are,  ain't  we  ?"  and  they  laughed  themselves  into  a  hooping-cough 
auuist. 

"  Fact,  Miss  Janet,"  said  I,  "  I  assure  you,"  (for  she  seemed  the 
most  tickled  at  the  idea  of  any  of  them,)  "  I  was,  indeed.  I  won't 
go  for  to  pretend  to  say,  some  of  it  didn't  rub  off  when  it  became 
<lry.  when  I  was  fishing  in  the  world  on  my  own  hook  ;  but,  at  the 
time  I  am  speaking  of  when  I  was  twenty-one  next  grass,  i  was 
so  guileless,  I  couldn't  see  no  harm  in  anything." 

'•  So  I  should  think."  said  she ;  "  it's  so  like  you." 

"  Well,  at  that  time  there  was  a  fever,  a  most  horrid  typhus 
fever,  broke  out  in  Slickville,  brought  there  by  some  shipwrecked 
emigrants.  There  was  a  Highland  family  settled  in  the  town,  thn 
year  afore,  consisting  of  old  Mr.  Duncan  Chisholrn,  his  wife,  and 
daughter  Flora.  The  old  people  were  carried  off  by  the  disease, 
and  Flora  was  left  without  friends  or  means,  and  the  worst  of  it 
was,  she  could  hardly  speak  a  word  of  intelligible  Engli>h.  Well, 
Minister  took  great  pity  on  her,  and  spoke  to  father  about  taking 
her  into  his  house,  as  sister  Sally  was  just  married,  and  the  old 
lady  left  without  any  companion  ;  and  they  agreed  to  take  her  as 
one  of  them,  and  she  was,  in  return,  to  help  mother  all  she  could. 
So,  next  day  she  came,  and  took  up  her  quarters  with  us.  Oh 
my,  Miss  Janet,  what  a  beautiful  girl  she  was!  She  was  as  tall  as 
you  are,  Jessie,  and  had  the  same  delicate  little  feet  and  hands." 

1  threw  that  in  on  purpose,  for  women,  in  a  general  way,  don't 
]ike  to  hear  others  spoken  of  too  extravagant,  particularly  if  you 
praise  them  for  an\  thing  they  hain't  got ;  but  if  you  praise  them 
lor  an\ thing  they  pride  themselves  on,  they  are  satisfied,  because 
it  shows  you  estimate  them  also  at  the  right  valy,  too.  It  took, 
for  she  pushed  her  foot  out  a  little,  and  rocked  it  up  and  down 
slowly,  as  if  she  was  rather  proud  of  it. 

"Her  hair  was  a  rich  auburn,  not  red  (I  don't  like  that  at  all, 
for  it  is  like  a  lucifer  match,  apt  to  go  off  into  a  flare  spon- 
tainiously  sometimes,)  but  a  golden  color,  and  lots  of  it  too,  just 
about  as  much  as  she  could  cleverly  manage;  eyes  like  diamonds ; 
complexion,  red  and  white  roses;  and  teeth,  not  quite  so  regular 
as  yours,  Miss,  but  as  white  as  them  ;  and  lips — lick ! — they  re- 
minded  one  of  a  curl  of  rich  rose-leaves,  when  the  bud  first  begins 
to  swell  and  spread  out  with  a  sort  of  peachy  bloom  on  rtiem, 
ripe,  rich,  and  chock  full  of  kisses." 

'•  Oh,  the  poor  ignorant  b<>y!"  said  Janet,  "you  didn't  know 
nothing,  did  you  ]  " 

"  Well,  1  didn  t,"  sais  I,  "  I  was  as  innocent  as  a  child  ;  buf 
n»l»ody  is  so  ignorant  as  not  to  know  a  splendiferous  gall  when  he 
sees  her,"  and  J  made  a  motion  of  my  head  to  her,  as  much  as  ic 
MV,  "  Put  that  cap  on,  for  it  justs  fits  you." 


70  A     NEW     WAY     TO     L'K  A  8  N     GAELIC. 

"  My  sakes,  what  a  neck  she  had  ?  not  too  long  and  thin,  for 
that  looks  goosey  ;  nor  too  short  and  thick,  for  that  gives  a  clumsy 
appearance  to  the  figure ;  but  betwixt  and  between,  and  perfection 
always  lies  there,  just  mid  way  between  extremes.  But  her  bust 

oh !  the  like  never  was  seen  in  Slickville,  for  the  ladies  there,  in 

a  gineral  way,  have  no — " 

"  Well  well,"  said  Jessie,  a  little  snappish,  for  praisin'  one  gal) 
to  another  ain't  the  shortest  way  to  win  their  regard,  "go  on  with 
your  story  of  Gaelic." 

"  And  her  waist,  Jessie,  was  the  most  beautiful  thing,  next  t<» 
your'n  I  ever  see.  It  was  as  round  as  an  apple,  and  anything  that 
is  round,  you  know,  is  larger  than  it  looks,  and  1  wondered  how 
much  it  would  measure.  1  never  see  such  an  innocent  girl  as  she 
was.  Brought  up  to  home,  and  in  the  country,  like  me,  she  knew 
no  more  about  the  ways  of  the  world  that  I  did.  She  was  a  mere 
child,  as  I  was  ;  she  was  only  nineteen  years  old,  and  neither  of  us 
knew  anything  of  society  rules.  One  day  I  asked  her  to  let  me 
measure  her  waist  with  my  arm,  and  1  did,  and  then  she  measured 
mine  with  her'n,  and  we  had  a  great  dispute  which  was  the  largest, 
and  we  tried  several  times,  before  we  ascertained  there  was  only 
an  inch  difference  between  us.  I  never  was  so  glad  m  my  life  as 
when  she  came  to  stay  with  us ;  she  was  so  good-natured,  and  so 
cheerful,  and  so  innocent,  it  was  quite  charming. 

"  Father  took  a  wonderful  shindy  to  her,  for  even  old  men  can't 
help  liking  beauty.  But  somehow,  I  don't  think  mother  did  ;  and 
it  appears  to  me  now,  in  looking  back  upon  it,  that  she  was  afraid 
1  should  like  her  too  much.  1  consaited  she  watched  us  out  of  the 
corner  of  her  glasses,  and  had  her  ears  open  to  hear  what  we  said  ; 
but  p'raps  it  was  only  my  vanity,  for  I  don't  know  nothin'  about 
the  working  of  a  woman's  heart  even  now.  I  am  only  a  bachelor 
yet,  and  how  in  the  world  should  1  know  anything  more  ab.rut  any 
lady  than  what  1  knew  about  poor  Flora?  "in  the  ways  of  women 
I  am  still  as  innocent  as  a  child ;  I  do  believe  that  they  could 
persuade  me  that  the  moon  is  nothin'  but  an  eight-day  clock  with 
an  illuminated  face.  I  ain't  vain,  1  assure  you,  and  never  biag  of 
what  I  doirt  know,  and  1  must  say,  I  don't  even  pretend  to  under 
stand  them  " 

"  Well,  I  never  ? "  said  Jessie. 

"Nor  1,"  said  Janet. 

"  Did  you  ever,  now  !  "  said  Catherine.  "  Oh,  dear,  how  soft 
you  are,  ain't  you?" 

"Always  was,  ladies,"  said  I,  "and  am  still  as  soft  as  dough, 

lather  was  very  kind  to  her,  but  he  was  old  and  impatient,  and  a 

ttle  hard  of  hearing,  and  he  couldn't  half  the  time  understand  her. 

One  day  she  came  in  with  a  message  from  neighbor  Dearborne, 

and  sals  she. 


A     NEW     WAT     TO     LKARN     GAELIC.  71 

"'Father—* 

"  '  Colonel,  if  you  please,  dear,'  said  mother,  '  he  is  not  your 
father ;'  and  the  old  lady  seemed  as  if  she  didn't  half  fancy  any 
body  calling  him  that  but  her  own  children.  Whether  that  is 
natural  or  not,  Miss  Jessie,"  said  I,  "  1  don't  know,  for  how  can  1 
tell  what  women  thinks." 

"Oh,  of  course  not,"  said  Jane,  "you  are  not  way  wise  and 
so  artless  ;  you  don't  know,  of  course  !  " 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I  ;  u  but  I  thought  mother  spoke  kinder  cross  to 
her,  and  it  confused  the  gall. 

''Says  Flora,  'Colonel  Slick,  Mr.  Dearborne  says — says — ' 
Well,  she  couldn't  get  the  rest  out ;  she  couldn't  find  the  EnglUh. 
'  Mr.  Dearborne  says — ' 

"  '  Well,  what  the  devil  does  he  say  ?  '  said  father,  stampin'  his 
foot,  out  of  all  patience  with  her. 

"  It  frightened  Flora,  and  off  she  went  out  of  the  room,  crying 
like  anything. 

"  That  girl  talks  worse  and  worse,'  said  mother. 

"'Well,  I  wont't  say  that,'  says  father,  a  little  mollified,  'for 
she  can't  talk  at  all,  so  there  is  no  worse  about  it.  I  am  sorry 
though  I  scared  her.  I  wish  somebody  would  teach  her  English. 

"  '  I  will,'  sais  I,  '  father,  and  she  shall  teach  me  Gaelic  in 
return. 

"'Indeed  you  shan't,' sais  mother;  'you  have  got  something 
better  to  do  than  laming  her;  and  as  for  Gaelic,  I  can't  bear  it. 
It's  a  horrid  outlandish  language,  and  of  no  earthly  use  whatever 
innliT  the  blessed  sun.  It's  worse  than  Indian.' 

"  '  Do,  Sam,'  said  father ;  '  it's  an  act  of  kindness,  and  she  is  an 
orphan,  and  besides,  Gaelic  may  be  of  great  use  to  you  in  life.  I 
like  Gaelic  myself;  we  had  some  brave  Jacobite  Highland  soldiers 
in  our  army  in  the  war  that  did  great  service,  but  unfortunately 
nobody  could  understand  them.  And  as  for  orphans,  when  1  think 
how  many  fatherless  children  we  made  for  the  British — ' 

'"You  might  have  been  better  employed,'  said  mother,  but  he 
didn't  hear  her,  and  went  right  on. 

"  '  I  have  a  kindly  feelin'  towards  them.  She  is  a  beautiful 
girl  that.' 

" '  If  it  warn't  for  her  carrotty  hair  and  freckled  face,'  said 
mother,  looking  at  me,  '  she  wouldn't  be  so  awful  ugly  after  all, 
would  she?' 

'• '  Yes,  Sam,'  sais  father,  '  teach  her  English  for  heaven's  sake ; 
but  mind,  she  must  give  you  lessons  in  Gaelic.  Languages  is  a 
great  thing.' 

"  '  It's  great  nonsense,'  said  mother,  raisin'  her  voice. 

" '  It's  my  orders,'  said  father,  holding  up  his  head  and  standing 
erect.  'It's  my  orders,  marm,  and  they  must  be  obeyed  ;'  and  he 


72  A     NEW     WAY     TO     LEARN     GAELIC. 

walked  out  of  the  room  as  stiff  as  a  ramrod,  and  as  grand  as  a 
Turk. 

'• '  Sam,'  sais  mother,  when  we  was  alone,  '  let  the  gal  be ;  the 
leas  she  talks  the  more  she'll  work.  Do  you  understand,  my 
dear  ? ' 

"'That's  just  my  idea,  mother,'  sais  I. 

'"Then  you  won't  do  no  such  nonsense,  will  you,  Sammy?' 

-  '  Oh  no  ! '  sais  I,  •  I'll  just  go  through  the  form  now  and  then  to 
please  father,  but  that's  ail.  Who  the  plague  wants  Gaelic  ?  It 
all  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  were  put  into  a  heap,  and  then  mu:ti- 
plied  by  three,  they  wouldn't  be  half  as  big  us  the  White  Moun- 
tains, would  they,  marm  ?  They  are  just  nothin'  on  the  map,  and 
high  hills,  like  high  folks,  are  plaguy  apt  to  have  barren  heads.' 

'•  'Sam,'  said  she  a  pattin'  of  me  on  the  cheek,  'you  have  twice 
as  much  sense  as  your  father  has  after  all.  You  take  after  me.' 

"  1  was  so  simple,  1  didn't  know  what  to  do.  So  1  said  yes  to 
mother  and  yes  to  father  ;  for  I  knew  1  must  honor  and  obey  my 
parents,  so  I  thought  1  would  please  both.  I  made  up  my  mind  I 
wouldn't  get  books  to  learn  Gaelic  or  teach  English,  but  do  it  by 
talking,  and  that  1  wouldn't  mind  father  seein'  me,  but  I'd  keep  a 
bright  look  out  for  the  o!d  lady.'' 

"  Oh  dear  !  how  innocent  that  was,  warn't  it?"  said  they. 

"  Well,  it  was,"  said  1;  'I  didn't  know  no  better  then,  and  I 
don't  now ;  and  what's  more,  I  think  I  would  do  the  same  agin,  if 
it  was  to  do  over  once  more." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  would,"  said  Janet. 

"  Well,  1  took  every  opportunity,  when  mother  was  not  by  to 
learn  words.  1  would  touch  her  hand  and  say,  '  What  is  that?' 
And  she  would  say,  '  Lauck,'  and  her  arm,  her  head,  and  her  cheek, 
and  she  would  teli  me  the  names,  and  her  eyes,  her  nose,  and  her 
chin,  and  so  on  ;  and  then  1  would  touch  her  lips,  and  say,  '  What's 
them  ? '  And  ^he'd  say  '  lihileau.'  And  then  I'd  kiss  her.  and  say 
'  What's  that?'  And  she'd  say,  '  Poy?  But  she  was  so  artless, 
and  so  was  1;  we  didn't  know  that's  not  usual  unless  people  are 
courtin  ;  for  we  hadn't  seen  anything  of  the  world  then. 

"  Well,  1  used  to  go  over  that  lesson  every  time  1  got  a  chance, 
and  soon  got  it  all  by  heart  but  that  word  Pog  (kiss.)  which  I  never 
couid  remember.  She  said  1  was  very  stupid  and  I  must  sav  it 
over  and  over  again  till  I  recollected  it.  Well,  it  was  astonishing 
how  quick  she  picked  up  English,  and  what  progress  I  made  in 
Gaelic;  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  mother,  who  hated  the  lamma^e 
like  pyson,  1  do  believe  I  should  soon  have  mastered  it  so  as  to 
speak  it  as  well  as  you  do.  But  she  took  every  opportunity  she 
could  to  keep  us  apart,  and  whenever  I  went  into  the  room  where 
Mora  was  spinning,  or  ironing,  she  would  either  follow  and  take  a 
duir.  and  sit  me  out,  or  send  me  away  of  an  errand,  or  tell  me  to 


A     NEW     WAT     TO     LEAKS     GAELIC.  73 

go  and  talk  to  father,  who  was  all  alone  in  the  parlor,  and  seemed 
Kinder  dull.  I  never  saw  a  person  take  such  a  dislike  to  the  Ian 
guage  as  she  did ;  and  she  didn't  seem  to  like  poor  Flora  either, 
for  no  othiT  reason  as  1  could  see  under  the  light  of  the  livin'  sun, 
but  because  she  spoke  it ;  for  it  was  impossible  not  to  love  her — 
she  was  so  beautiful,  so  artless,  and  so  interesting,  and  so  innocent. 
But  so  it  was. 

'•  Poor  thing !  I  pitied  her.  The  old  people  couldn't  make  out 
half  f-he  said,  and  mother  wouldn't  allow  me,  who  was  the  only  per- 
son she  could  talk  to,  to  have  any  conversation  with  her  if  she 
could  help  it.  It  is  a  bad  thing  to  distrust  young  people,  it  makes 
them  artful  at  last ;  and  I  really  believe  it  had  that  effect  on  me  to 
a  certain  extent.  The  unfortunate  girl  often  had  to  set  up  late 
ironing,  or  something  another.  And  if  you  will  believe  it  now, 
mother  never  would  let  me  sit  up  with  her  to  keep  her  company 
and  talk  to  her ;  but  before  she  went  to  bed  herself,  always  saw 
me  off  to  my  own  room.  Well,  it's  easy  to  make  people  go  to 
bed,  but  it  aint  just  quite  so  easy  to  make  them  stay  there.  So 
when  1  used  to  hrar  the  old  lady  get  fairly  into  hers,  for  my  room 
was  next  to  father's,  though  we  went  by  different  stairs  to  them,  I 
used  to  go  down  in  my  stocking  feet,  and  keep  her  company ;  for 
1  pitied  her  from  my  heart.  And  then  we  would  sit  in  the  corner 
of  the  fire-place  and  talk  Gaelic  half  the  night.  And  you  can't 
think  how  pleasant  it  was.  You  laugh,  Miss  Janet,  but  it  really 
was  delightful ;  they  were  the  happiest  hours  I  almost  ever  spent." 

"Oh,  1  don't  doubt  it,"  she  said,  "of  course  they  were. 

"  If  you  think  so,  Miss,"  said  1,  "  p'raps  you  would  finish  the 
lessons  with  me  this  evening,  if  you  have  nothing  particular  to  do." 

"Thank  you,  Sir,"  she  said,  laughing  like  anything.  "I  can 
speak  English  sufficient  for  my  purpose,  and  I  agree  with  your 
mother,  Gaelic  in  this  country  is  of  no  sort  of  use  whatever;  at 
ka-4  I  am  so  artless  and  unsophisticated  as  to  think  so.  But  go 
on,  Sir." 

'•  Well,  mother  two  or  three  times  came  as  near  as  possible 
catching  me,  for  she  was  awful  afraid  of  lights  and  fires,  she  said, 
and  couldn't  sleep  sound  if  the  coals  weren't  covered  up  with  ashes, 
the  hearth  swept,  and  the  broom  put  into  a  tub  of  water,  and  she 
used  to  get  up  and  pop  into  the  room  very  sudden  ;  and  though 
she  warn't  very  light  of  foot,  we  used  to  be  too  busy  repeating 
words  to  keep  watch  as  we  ought." 

'•  W  hat  an  artless  couple,"  said  Janet ;  "  well  I  never !  how  you 
can  have  the  face  to  pretend  so,  1  don't  know !  Well,  vou  do  beat 
all!' 

"  A  suspicious  parent,"  sais  I,  "  Miss,  as  I  said  before,  makes  an 
artful  child.     ]  never  knew  what  guile  was  before  that.     Well,  one 
night ;  oh  dear,  it  makes  my  heart  ache  to  think  of  it,  it  was  the 
4 


74  A     NEW     WAT     TO     LEA  EN     GAELIC. 

last  we  ever  spent  together.  Flora  wa?  starching  muslins,  Mother 
had  seen  me  off  to  my  room,  and  then  went  to  hers,  when  down  I 
crept  in  my  stockin'  feet  as  usual,  puts  a  chair  into  the  chimney 
corner,  and  we  sat  down  and  repeated  our  lessons.  We  came  to 
the  word  Pog  (kiss),  I  always  used  to  forget  it ;  and  it's  very  odd, 
for  it's  the  most  beautiful  one  in  the  language.  We  soon  lost  all 
caution,  and  it  sounded  so  loud  and  sharp  it  started  mother ;  and 
before  we  knew  where  we  were,  we  heard  her  enter  the  parlor 
which  was  next  to  us.  In  an  instant  I  was  off  and  behind  the.  entry 
door,  and  Flora  was  up  and  at  work.  Just  then  the  old  lady  came 
in  as  softly  as  possible,  and  stood  and  surveyed  the  room  all  round. 
I  could  see  her  through  the  crack  of  the  door,  she  actually  seemed 
disappointed  at  not  finding  me  there. 

"'What  noise  was  that  I  heard  Flora,'  she  said,  speakin'  as 
mild  as  if  she  was  actilly  afraid  to  wake  the  cat  up. 

"  Flora  lifted  the  centre  of  the  muslin,  she  was  starching,  with 
one  hand,  and  makin'  a  hollow  under  it  in  the  palm  of  the  other, 
she  held  it  close  up  to  the  old  woman's  face,  and  clapped  it ;  and 
it  made  the  very  identical  sound  of  the  smack  she  had  heard,  and 
the  dear  child  repeated  it  in  quick  succession  several  times.  The 
old  lady  jumped  back  the  matter  of  a  foot  or  a  more,  she  positively 
looked  skared,  as  if  the  old  gentleman  would  think  somebody  was 
a  kissin'  of  her. 

"Oh  dear,  I  thought  J  should  have  teeheed  right  out.  She 
seemed  utterly  confounded,  and  Flora  looked,  as  she  was,  the  dear 
critter,  so  artless  and  innocent!  It  dumbfoundered  her  completely. 
Still  she  warn't  quite  satisfied. 

"  '  What's  this  chair  doing  so  far  in  the  chimbley  corner?'  said 
she. 

"  How  glad  I  was  there  warn't  two  there.  The  fact  is,  we  never 
used  but  one,  we  was  quite  young,  and  it  was  always  big  enough 
for  us  both. 

"  Flora  talked  Gaelic  as  fast  as  hail,  slipt  off  her  shoes,  sat  down 
on  it,  put  her  feet  to  the  fire,  folded  her  arms  across  her  bosom, 
laid  her  head  back  and  looked  so  sweet  and  so  winnin'  into  mother's 
face,  and  said,  '  cha  n'eil  Beurl,'  (I  have  no  English)  and  then  pro- 
ceeded in  Gaelic. 

"  '  If  you  hadn't  sat  in  that  place,  yourself,  when  you  was  young, 
I  guess  you  wouldn't  be  so  awful  scared  at  it,  you  old  goose.' 

"  I  thought  1  never  saw  her  look  so  lovely.  Mother  was  not 
quite  persuaded  she  was  wrong  after  all.  She  looked  all  round 
agin,  as  if  she  was  sure  I  was  there,  and  then  came  towards  the 
door  where  I  was,  so  J  sloped  up-stairs  like  a  shadow  on  the  wall, 
and  into  bed  in  no  time ;  but  she  followed  up  and  came  close  to 
me,  and  holdin  the  candle  in  my  face,  said  : 

"  •  Sam,  ,are  you  asleep  V 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART.         75 

"  Well,  I  didn't  answer. 

"  '  Sam,'  said  she,  '  why  don't  you  speak,'  and  she  shook  rr.e, 

"'Hullo,'  sais  I,  pretcndin'  to  wake  up,  'what's  the  matter* 
have  I  overslept  myself?  is  it  time  to  get  up?'  and  I  put  out  my 
arm  to  rub  my  eyes,  and  lo  and  behold  1  exposed  my  coat  sleeve. 

" '  No,  Sam,'  said  she, '  you  couldn't  oversleep  yourself,  for  you 
havn't  slept  at  all,  you  ain't  even  ondressed.' 

"  '  Ain't  I,'  said  I,  '  are  you  sure  ?' 

"  '  Why  look  here,'  said  she,  throwin'  down  the  clothes  and 
pullin'  my  coat  over  my  head  till  she  nearly  strangled  me. 

"  '  Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  hadn't  stripped,'  sais  I.  '  When 
a  feller  is  so  peskilly  sleepy  as  I  be,  1  suppose  he  is  glad  to  turn 
in  any  way.' 

"  She  never  spoke  another  word,  but  I  saw  a  storm  was  brewin, 
and  I  heard  her  mutter  to  herself,  '  creation !  what  a  spot  of  work  ! 
I'll  have  no  teaching  of  mother  tongue  here.'  Next  morning  sht> 
sent  me  to  Boston  of  an  errand,  and  when  I  returned,  two  days 
after,  Flora  was  gone  to  live  with  sister  Sally.  I  have  never  for- 
given myself  for  that  folly  ;  but  really  it  all  came  of  our  being  so 
artless  and  so  innocent.  There  was  no  craft  in  either  of  us.  She 
forgot  to  remove  the  chair  from  the  chimbley  corner,  poor  simple 
minded  thing,  and  I  forgot  to  keep  my  coat  sleeve  covered.  Yes 
yes,  it  all  came  of  our  being  too  innocent;  but  that's  the  way, 
ladies,  I  learned  Gaelic," 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART. 

WHEN  I  took  leave  of  the  family  I  returned  to  the  room  where 
I  had  left  Peter  and  the  Doctor,  but  they  had  both  retired.  And 
as  my  chamber  adjoined  it,  I  sat  by  the  fire,  lighted  a  cigar,  and 
fell  into  one  of  my  rambling  meditations. 

Here,  said  1  to  myself,  is  another  phase  of  life.  Peter  is  at 
once  a  Highlander,  a  Canadian,  a  trapper,  a  backwoodsman  and  a 
coaster.  His  daughters  are  half  Scotch  and  half  Indian,  and  have 
many  of  the  peculiarities  of  both  races.  There  is  even  between 
these  sisters  a  wide  difference  in  intellect,  appearance,  and  innate 
refinement.  The  Doctor  has  apparently  abandoned  his  profession, 
for  the  study  of  nature,  and  quit  the  busy  haunts  of  men,  for  the 
solitude  of  the  forest.  He  seems  tc  think  and  act  differently  fr»m 
ai;y  one  uiso  in  the  country.  Here  too  we  have  had  Cutler,  \\ln>  w 


70         THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART. 

a  scholar  and  a  skilful  navigator,  filling  the  berth  of  a  master  of  a 
fishing  craft.'  He  began  life  with  nothing  but  good  principles,  and 
good  Spirits,  and  is  now  about  entering  on  a  career,  which  in  a  few 
years  will  lead  *c  a  great  fortune.  He  is  as  much  out  of  place 
where  he  is,  as  a  salmon  would  be  in  a  horse  pond.  And  here  am 
I,  Squire,  your  humble  servant,  Sam  Slick  the  clockmaker,  not  an 
eccentric  man,  I  hope,  for  I  detest  them,  they  are  either  mad,  or 
wish  to  be  thought  so,  because  madness,  they  suppose  to  be  an 
evidence  of  genius;  but  a  specimen  of  a  cla-s  not  uncommon  in  the 
States,  though  no  other  country  in  the  world  but  Yankeedoodledum 
produces  it. 

This  is  a  combination,  these  colonies  often  exhibit,  and  what  a 
fool  a  man  must  be  when  character  is  written  in  such  large  print, 
if  he  can't  read  it,  even  as  he  travels  on  horseback. 

Of  all  the  party  assembled  here  to-night,  the  Scotch  lasses  alone, 
who  came  in  during  the  evening,  are  what  you  call  every  day  galls. 
They  are  strong,  hearty,  intelligent  and  good-natured,  full  of  fun 
and  industry,  can  milk,  churn,  make  butter  and  cheese ;  card,  spin 
and  weave,  and  will  make  capital  wives  for  farmers  of  their  own 
station  in  life.  As  such,  they  are  favorable  representatives  of  their 
class,  and  to  my  mind,  far,  far  above  those  that  look  down  upon 
them,  who  ape,  but  can't  copy,  and  have  the  folly,  because  they 
sail  in  the  wake  of  larger  craft  to  suppose  they  can  be  mistaken  for 
anything  else  than  tenders.  Putting  three  masts  into  a  coaster 
may  make  her  an  object  of  ridicule,  but  can  never  give  her  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  ship.  They  know  this  in  England,  they  have  got  to 
learn  it  yet  in  the  Provinces. 

Well,  this  miscellaneous  collection  of  people  affords  a  wide  field 
for  speculation.  Jessie  is  a  remarkable  woman,  1  must  ask  the 
Doctor  about  her  history.  I  see  there  is  depth  of  feeling  about 
her,  a  simplicity  of  character,  a  singular  sensitiveness,  and  a  shade 
of  melancholy.  Is  it  constitutional,  or  does  it  arise  from  her  pecu- 
liar position?  I  wonder  how  she  reasons,  and  what  she  thinks, 
and  how  she  would  talk,  if  she  would  say  what  she  thinks.  Has 
she  ability  to  build  up  a  theory  of  her  own,  or  does  she,  like  half 
the  women  in  the  world,  only  think  of  a  thing  as  it  occurs  ?  Does 
she  live  in  instances  or  in  generalities,  I'll  draw  her  out  and  see. 
Every  order,  where  there  are  orders,  and  every  class  (and  no 
place  is  without  them  where  women  are)  have  a  way  of  judging  in 
common  with  their  order  or  class.  What  is  her  station  I  wonder 
in  her  own  opinion  ?  What  are  her  expectations  ?  WThat  are  her 
notions  of  wedlock  ?  All  girls  regard  marriage  as  an  enviable  lot, 
or  a  necessary  evil.  If  they  tell  us  they  don't,  it's  because  the 
right  man  hante  come.  And  therefore  I  never  mind  what  they 
say  on  this  subject.  I  have  no  doubt  thoy  mean  :t :  but  they  don't 
know  what  fh^y  are  a  talking  about. 


THE     WOUNDS     OF     THE     HEART.  77 

You,  Squire,  may  go  into  a  ball-room,  where  there  are  two  hun 
dred  women.  Ono  hundred  and  ninety  nine  of  them"  you  will  pasg 
with  as  much  indifference  as  one  hundred  and  ninety -nine  pullets  ; 
but  the  two  hundredth  irresistibly  draws  you  to  her.  There  are  one 
hundred  handsomer,  and  ninety-nine  cleverer  ones  present  ;  but  sh« 
alone  has  the  magnet  that  attracts  you.  Now,  what  is  that  mag 
net  ?  Is  it  her  manner  that  charms  ?  is  it  her  voice  that  strikes  on 
one  of  those  thousand  and  one  chords  of  your  nervous  system,  and 
makes  it  Vibrate,  as  sound  does  hollow  glass  ?  Or  do  her  eyes 
affect  your  gizzard,  so  that  you  have  no  time  to  chew  the  cud  of 
reflect  ion,  and  no  opp<  rtunity  for  your  head  to  judge  how  you  can 
digest  the  notions  they  have  put  into  it?  Or  is  it  animal  magnet- 
ism, or  what  the  plague  is  it  ? 

You  are  strangely  affected  ;  nobody  else  in  the  room  is,  and 
everybody  wonders  at  you.  But  so  it  is.  It's  an  even  chance  if 
you  don't  perpetrate  matrimony.  Well,  that's  a  thing  that  sharp 
ens  the  eyesight,  and  will  remove  a  cataract  quicker  than  an  oculist 
can,  to  save  his  soul  alive.  It  metamorphoses  an  angel  into  a  wo- 
man, and  it:s  phiguey  lucky  if  the  process  don't  go  on  and  change 
her  into  something  else. 

After  I  got  so  far  in  my  meditations,  I  lit  another  cigar,  and  took 
out  my  watch  to  look  at  the  time.  "My  eyes,"  sais  I,  "if  it  tante 
past  one  o'clock  at  night.  Ilowsomever,  it  aint  often  I  get  a 
chance  to  be  alone,  and  I  will  finish  this  here  weed,  at  any  rate.' 
Arter  which  I  turned  in.  The  following  morning  I  did  not  rise  as 
early  as  usual,  for  it's  a  great  secret  for  a  man  never  to  be  in  the 
way,  especially  in  a  house  like  Peter's,  where  his  daughters  had,  in 
course,  a  good  deal  to  see  to  themselves.  So  I  thought  I'd  turn 
over,  and  take  another  snoose  ;  and  do  you  know,  Squire,  that  is 
a i ways  a  dreamy  one,  and  if  \our  mind  aint  worried,  or  >our  di- 
gestion askew,  i,t's  more  nor  probable  you  will  have  pleasant  ones. 

When  I  went  into  the  keeping-room,  I  found  Jessie  and  her 
sister  there,  the  table  set,  and  everything  prepared  for  me. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  elder  one,  "  your  breakfast  is  ready." 

"  But  where  is  your  father,"  said  I,  "and  Doctor  Ovey  T' 

"  Oh,  they  have  gone  to  the  next  harbor,  Sir,  to  see  a  man  who 
is  very  ill  there.  The  Doctor  left  a  message  for  you  ;  he  said  ho 
wanted  to  see  you  again  very  much,  and  hoped  to  find  you  here  on 
his  return,  which  will  be  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  He 
desired  me  to  say,  if  you  sailed  before  he  got  back,  he  hoped  you 
would  leave  word  what  port  he  would  find  you  in,  as  he  would  fol- 
low you." 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  we  shall  not  go  before  to-morrow,  at  the  earliest, 
so  he  will  be  in  very  good  time.  But  who  in  the  world  is  Doctor 
Ovey  ?  lie  is  the  most  singular  man  I  ever  met  He  is  very  «v 
centric  ;  aint  he  ?" 


78  THE     WOUNDS     OF    THE     HEART. 

"  I  don't  know  who  he  is,"  she  replied.  "  Father  agrees  with 
vou.  He  says  he  talks  sometimes  as  if  he  was  daft ;  but  that,  I 
believe,  is  ouly  because  he  is  so  learned.  He  has  a  house  away  back 
in  the  forest,  where  he  lives  occasionally  ;  but  the  greater  part  of 
the  year  he  wanders  about  the  woods,  and  camps  out  like — ." 
She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  brought  out  the  reluctant  word  : 
*'  an  Indian.  lie  knows  the  name  of  every  plant  and  flower  in  the 
country,  and  their  uses ;  and  the  nature  of  every  root,  or  bark,  or 
'eaf  that  ever  was ;  and  then  he  knows  all  the  ores,  and  coal  mines, 
and  everything  of  that  kind.  He  is  a  great  hand  at  stuffing  birds 
and  animals,  and  has  some  of  every  kind  there  is  in  the  province. 
As  for  butterflies,  beetles,  and  those  sorts  of  things,  he  will  chase 

them  like  a  child  all  day.     His  house  is  a  regular .     I  don't 

recollect  the  word  in  English  ;  in  Gaelic  it  is  "  liyh  neonachais.'1 

"  Museum  ?"  said  I. 

"  Ah,  that's  it,"  said  sho. 

"  He  can't  have  much  practice,"  I  said,  "  if  he  goes  racing  and 
erasing  over  the  country  that  way,  like  a  run-away  engine." 

u  He  don't  want  it,  Sir,"  she  replied  ;  "  he  is  very  well  oft*  He 
says  he  is  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  country,  for  he  don't  spend 
aaif  his  income,  and  that  any  man  who  does  that  is  wealthy.  He 
<ays  he  aint  a  Doctor.  Whether  he  is  or  not,  I  don't  know  ;  but 
he  makes  wonderful  cures.  Nothing  in  the  world  makes  him  so 
angry,  as  when  anybody  sends  for  him,  that  can  afford  a  doctor,  for 
he  don't  take  pay.  Now,  this  morning  he  stormed,  and  raved,  and 
stamped,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth,  as  if  he  was  mad  ;  he  fairly 
swore,  a  thing  1  never  beard  him  do  before ;  and  he  seized  the 
hammer  that  he  chips  oft"  stones  with,  and  threatened  the  man  so, 
who  come  for  him,  that  he  stood  with  the  door  in  his  hand,  while 
he  begged  him  to  go." 

"  '  Oh,  Sir,'  said  he,  '  the  Squire  will  die  if  you  don't  go.' 

'• '  Let  him  die,  then,'  he  replied,  'and  be  hanged.  What  is  it 
tome?  It  serves  him  right.  Why  didn't  he  send  for  Doctor 
Smith  and  pay  him  ?  Does  he  think  1  am  a  going  to  rob  that  man 
of  his  living  ?  Be  off",  Sir — oft"  with  you  !  Tell  him  1  can't  come, 
and  won't  come;  and  do  you  go  for  a  magistrate  to  make  his  will.' 

"  As  soon  as  the  man  quitted  the  house,  his  fit  left  him. 

"'Well,'  said  he,  'Peter,  I  suppose  we  musn't  let  the  man 
perish,  after  all ;  but  1  wish  he  hadn't  sent  for  me,  especially  just 
now,  for  I  want  to  have  a  long  talk  with  Mr.  Slick.' 

"  And  he  and  father  set  off  immediately  through  the  woods." 

"  Suppose  we  beat  up  his  quarters,  Jessie,"  said  I.  "  I  should 
like  to  see  his  house  and  collection  amazingly." 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  "  so  should  I,  above  all  things ;  but  I  wouldn't 
ask  him  for  the  world.  He'll  do  it  for  you,  1  know  he  will ;  for 


THE     WOUNDS     OF     THE     IIEA.KT.  79 

he  snys  you  are  a  man  after  his  own  heait.  You  study  nature  so; 
and  I  don't  kn«w  what  all  he  said  of  \ou." 

'•  Woll,  well."  sais  I,  '•  old  trapper  as  he  is,  see  if  I  don't  caU-h 
him.  I  know  how  to  bait  the  trap,  so  he  will  walk  right  int<>  it. 
And  then,  if  he  has  anything  to  eat  there,  I'll  show  him  how  to 
cook  it  woodsman  fashion.  I'll  teach  him  how  to  dress  a  salmon  ; 
roast,  boil,  or  bake.  How  to  make  a  bee-hunter's  mess;  a  new 
way  to  do  his  potatoes  camp-fashion  ;  and  how  to  dispen  e  with 
kitchen-ranges,  cabouses,  or  cooking-stoves.  If  I  could  only  knock 
over  some  wild  ducks  at  the  lake  here,  I'd  show  him  a  simple  way 
of  preparing  them  that  would  make  his  mouth  wat«r,  1  know. 
Truth  is,  a  man  that  lives  in  the  country,  ought  to  know  a  little  of 
everything,  a'most,  and  he  can't  be  comfortable  if  he  don't.  But 
dear  me,  I  must  be  a  movin'." 

So  I  made  her  a  bow,  and  she  made  me  one  of  her  best  court- 
seys.  And  I  held  out  my  hand  to  her,  but  she  didn't  take  it,  tho' 
I  see  a  smile  playin'  over  her  face.  The  fact  is,  it's  just  as  well 
she  didn't,  for  I  intendpd  to  draw  her  — .  Well,  it  ain't  no  matter 
what  I  intended  to  do ;  and,  therefore,  it  ain't  no  use  to  confess 
what  I  didn't  realize. 

"  Truth  is,"  said  I.  lingering  a  bit,  not  to  look  disappointed,  "  a 
fanner  ought  to  know  what  to  raise,  how  to  live,  and  where  to 
save.  If  two  things  are  equally  good,  and  one  costs  money,  and 
the  other  only  a  little  trouble,  the  choice  ain't  difficult,  is  it  ?" 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  sais  she,  "are  you  a  farmer?" 

"  I  was  bred  and  bom  on  a  farm,  dear,"  sais  I,  "  and  on  one, 
too,  where  nothin'  was  ever  wasted,  and  no  time  ever  lost ;  where 
there  was  a  place  for  everything,  and  everything  was  in  its  place. 
Where  peace  and  plenty  reigned  ;  and  where  there  was  a  shot  in 
the  locker  for  the  minister,  another  for  the  poor." 

'•  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  considered  them  game,  did 
you  ?"  said  she,  looking  archly. 

"  Thank  you,"  sais  I.  '•  But  now  you  are  making  game  of  me, 
Miss :  that's  not  a  bad  hit  of  yours,  though  ;  and  a  shot  for  the 
bank  at  the  eend  of  the  year.  1  know  all  about  farm  things,  from 
raisin'  Indian  corn  down  to  managing  a  pea-hen  ;  the  most  difficult 
thing  to  regulate,  next  to  a  wife,  I  ever  -see." 

"  Do  you  live  on  a  farm  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  when  I  am  to  home,"  sais  I,  "  I  have  returned  again  to  the 
old  occupation  and  the  old  place;  for,  after  all,  what's  bred  in  the 
bone,  you  know,  is  hard  to  get  out  of  the  flesh,  and  home  is  home, 
however  homely.  The  stones,  and  the  trees,  and  the  brooks,  and 
the  hills,  look  like  old  friends — don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  I  should  think  so,"  she  said ;  "  but  I  have  never  returned  to 
my  home  or  my  people,  and  never  shall."  And  the  tears  rose  in 
her  ayes,  and  she  got  up  and  wulk«  d  to  the  window,  and  said,  with 


30  THE     WOUNDS     OF     THE     HEART. 

her  back  towards  me,  as  if  ;-he  was  looking  at  the  weather :  '  The 
Doctor  has  a  fine  day  for  his  journey  ;  I  hope  he  will  return  «oon. 
I  think  you  will  like  him." 

And  then  she  came  back  and  took  her  seat,  as  composed  as  if  [ 
had  never  awakened  those  sad  thoughts.  Poor  thing !  1  knew 
what  was  passing  in  hd  mind  as  well  as  if  those  eloquent  tears  had 
not  touched  my  heart.  Somehow  or  another,  it  appears  to  me, 
like  a  stumblin'  horse,  I  am  always  a  striking  my  foot  agin  some 
stone,  or  stump,  or  root,  that  any  fellow  might  see  with  half  an 
eye.  She  forced  a  smile,  and  said  : 

"Are  you  married,  Sir?" 

"  Married !"  sais  I,  "  to  be  sure  I  am  ;  I  married  Flora." 

"  You  must  think  me  as  innocent  as  she  was,  to  believe  that,r> 
she  said,  and  laughed  at  the  idea.  "  How  many  children  have 
you  1" 

"  Seven,"  sais  I : 

44  Richard  R,.  and  Ira  C., 
Betsey  Anne,  and  Jessie  B., 
Sary  D.,  Eugcen — E, 
And  Jren — ee." 

"I  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  you,  Mr.  Slick,"  she  said,  "but 
you  are  the  queerest  man  1  ever  see.  You  talk  so  serious,  anC 
yet  you  are  so  full  of  fun." 

44  That's  because  1  don't  pretend  to  nothin',  dear,"  sais  I ;  "  I  an; 
just  a  nateral .  man.  There  is  a  time  for  all  things,  and  a  way  t< 
do  'em,  too.  If  1  have  to  freeze  down  solid  to  a  thing,  why,  then, 
ice  is  the  word.  If  there  is  a  thaw,  then  fun  and  snow-ballin'  is 
the  ticket.  I  listen  to  a  preacher,  and  try  to  be  the  better  for  hia 
argufying,  if  he  has  any  sense,  and  will  let  me  ;  and  I  listen  to  the 
violin,  and  dance  to  it,  if  it's  in  tune,  and  played  right.  I  like  my 
pastime,  and  one  day  in  seven  is  all  the  Lord  asks.  Evangelical 
people  say  he  wants  the  other  six.  Let  them  state  day  and  date, 
and  book  and  page  for  that,  for  1  won't  take  their  word  for  it.  So 
I  won't' dance  of  a  Sunday  ;  but  show  me  a  pretty  gall,  and  give 
me  good  music,  and  see  if  I  don't  dance  any  other  day.  I  am  not 
a  droll  man,  dear,  but  I  say  what  I  think,  and  do  what  I  please,  as 
long  as  I  know  1  ain't  saying  or  doing  wrong.  And  if  that  ain't 
poetry,  it's  tru;h,  that's  all." 

44  I  wish  you  knew  the  Doctor,"  said  she;  "I  don't  understand 
these  things,  but  you  are  the  only  man  I  ever  met  that  talked  like 
him,  only  he  hante  the  fun  you  have ;  but  he  enjoys  fun  beyond 
everything.  I  must  say  I  rather  like  him,  though  he  is  odd,  and  1 
am  sure  you  would,  for  you  could  comprehend  many  things  he 
says  that  1  don't." 

44  It  strikes  me,"  sais  I  O  myself,  ''for  I  thought,  puitiir  this  and 
that  together.;  her  rather  likin'  him,  and  her  desire  t-  see  hi* 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART.       81 

house,  and  her  tryin'  to  flatter  me  that  I  talked  like  him  ;  that, 
perhaps,  like  her  young  Gaelic  friend's  brother,  who  dreamed  of 
the  silver  dollars,  she  might  have  had  a  dream  of  him." 

So,  sais  I,  "  I  have  an  idea,  Jessie,  that  there  is  a  subject,  if  he 
talked  to  you  upon,  you  could  understand." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,"  said  she,  rising  and  laughing ;  "  now  do  you  go 
on  board  and  get  me  your  book,  and  I  will  go  and  see  about  dinner 
for  the  Doc —  for  my  father  and  you." 
Well,  I  held  out  my  hand,  and  said, 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Jessie.  Recollect,  when  I  bring  you  the 
book,  that  you  must  pay  the  forfeit." 

She  dropt  my  hand  in  a  minute,  stood  up  as  straight  as  a  tragedy 
actress,  and  held  her  hec.d  as  high  as  the  Queen  of  Sheby.  She 
gave  me  a  look  I  shan't  very  easily  forget,  it  was  so  full  of  scorn 
and  pride. 

"And  you,  too,  Sir,"  said  she,  "I  didn't  expect  this  of  you,'' 
and  then  left  the  room. 

"  IIullo  !"  sais  I,  "  who's  half-cracked  now — you  or  the  Doctor  ? 
It  appears  to  me  it's  six  of  one  and  half-a-dozen  of  the  other;"  and 
1  took  my  hat  and  walked  down  to  the  beach,  and  hailed  a  boat. 

About  four,  I  returned  to  the  house,  and  brought  with  me,  as  I 
promised,  the  "Clock-maker."  When  I  entered  the  room.  I  found 
Jessie  there,  who  received  me  with  her  usual  ease  and  composure. 
She  was  trimming  a  work-bag,  the  sides  of  which  were  made  of 
the  inner  rind  of  the  birch-tree,  and  beautifully  worked  with  por- 
supine  quills  and  moose  hair. 

"  Well,"  sais  1,  •'  that  is  the  most  delicate  thing  I  ever  saw  in  all 
rny  born  days.  Creatioi,,  how  that  would  be  prizrd  in  Boston  ! 
How  on  earth  did  you  learn  to  do  that  ?"  sais  I. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  with  an  effort  that  evidently  cost  her  a  strug- 
gle, "my  people  make  and  barter  them  at  the  Fort  at  the  north- 
west,  for  things  of  more  v.se.  Indians  have  no  money." 

Jt  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  so  distinct  an  avowal  of  her 
American  origin,  and  as  I  saw  it  brought  the  color  to  her  face,  I 
thought  I  had  discovered  a  clue  to  her  natural  pride,  or,  more  pro- 
perly, her  sense  of  the  injustice  of  the  world,  which  is  too  apt  to 
look  down  upon  this  mixed  race  with  open  or  ill-concealed  con 
tempt.  The  scurvy  opens  old  sores,  and  makes  them  bleed 
afresh,  and  an  unfeeling  fellow  does  the  same.  Whatever  else  I 
may  be,  I  am  not  that  man,  thank  fortune.  Indeed,  I  am  rather  a 
dab  at  dressin'  bodily  ones,  and  1  won't  turn  my  ba';k  in  that  line, 
with  some  simples  1  know  of,  on  any  doctor  that  ever  trod  in  shoe- 
leather,  with  all  his  compounds,  phials,  and  stiptics. 

In  a  gineral  way,  they  know  just  as  much  about  their  business  as 
a  donkey  does  of  music,  and  yet  both  of  them  practice  all  day. 
They  don't  make  no  improvements.     They  are  like  the  birds  of  tha 
4» 


52         THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART. 

air,  and  the  beasts  of  the  forest.  Swallows  build  their  nests  year 
after  year,  and  generation  after  generation,  in  the  identical  same 
fashion,  and  moose  winter  after  winter,  and  century  after  century, 
always  follow  each  other's  tracks.  They  consider  it  safer,  it  aint 
so  laborious,  and  the  crust  of  the  snow  d«>n't  hurt  their  shins.  If  a 
critter  is  such  a  fool  as  to  strike  out  a  new  path  for  himself,  the 
rest  of  the  herd  pass,  and  leave  him  to  worry  on,  and  he  soon  hears 
the  dogs  in  pursuit,  and  is  run  down  and  done  for.  Medical  men 
act  in  the  same  manner. 

Brother  Eldad,  the  doctor,  used  to  say  to  me  when  riggin'  him 
on  the  subject : 

"  Sam,  you  are  the  most  conceited  critter  I  ever  knew.  You 
have  picked  up  a  few  herbs  and  roots,  that  have  some  virtue  in 
them,  but  not  strength  enough  fur  us  to  give  a  place  to  in  the  phar- 
macopoeia of  medicine." 

'•  Pharmacopia  ?"  sais  I,  "  why,  what  in  natur  is  that?  What 
the  phigue  does  it  mean  1  Is  it  bunkum?" 

"You  had  better  not  talk  on  the  subject,"  said  he,  "  if  you  don't 
know  the  tarms." 

"  You  might  as  well  tell  me,"  sais  I,  "  that  I  had  better  not 
speak  English  if  1  can't  talk  gibberish.  But,"  sais  I,  "without 
'oking,  now,  when  you  take  the  husk  off  that,  and  crack  the  nut, 
what  do  you  call  the  kernel  ?" 

"  Why,"  sais  he,  "it's  a  dispensary  ;  a  book  containin'  rules  for 
compound  in'  medicines." 

"  Well,  then,  it's  a  receipt-book,  and  nothin'  else,  arter  all.  Why 
the  plague  can't  you  call  it  so  at  once,  instead  of  usin'  a  word  that 
vould  break  the  jaw  of  a  German  ?" 

"Sam,"  he  replied,  "the  poet  says  with  great  truth, 

"  '  A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing, 

Drink  deep,  or  touch  not  the  Pierian  spring. ' " 

"  Dear,  dear,"  said  I,  "  there  is  another  strange  f-ai\  hove  m 
sight,  as  I  am  alive.  What  flag  does  'Pierian'  sail  under?" 

"The  magpies,"  said  he,  with  the  air  of  a  man  that's  a  goin'  to 
hit  you  hard.  "It  is  a  spring  called  Pierus  after  a  gentleman  of 
that  name,  whose  daughters,  that  were  as  conceited  as  you  be,  were 
changed  into  magpies  by  the  Muses,  for  challenging  them  out  to 
sing.  All  pratin'  fellows  like  you,  who  go  about  runnin'  down 
doctors,  ought  to  be  sarved  in  the  same  way." 

"  A  critter  will  never  be  run  down,"  said  1,  "  who  will  just  take  the 
trouble  to  get  out  of  the  way,  that's  a  fact.  Why  on  airth  couldn't 
the  poet  have  said  Magpian  Spring,  then  all  the  world  would  under- 
stand him.  No,  the  lines  would  have  had  more  sense  if  they  hau 
run  this  way  : 


THK     WOUNDS     OF     THE     HEART.  83 

"  '  A  little  physic  is  a  dangerous  thing  ; 

Drink  deep,  or  drink  not  of  the  doctor's  spring,"  ' 

"Well,  it  made  him  awful  mad;  sais  he,  "You  talk  of  treating 
wounds  as  all  unskilful  mer.  do,  who  apply  balsams  and  trash  of 
that  kind,  that  half  the  time  turns  the  wound  into  an  ulcer;  and 
then  when  it  is  too  late,  the  doctor  is  sent  for,  and  sometimes  to 
get  rid  of  the  sore,  he  has  to  amputate  the  limb.  Now,  what  does 
your  receipt-book  say  ?" 

"  It  sais,"  sais  I,  "  that  natur  alone  makes  the  cure,  and  all  you 
got  to  do,  is  to  stand  by,  and  aid  her  in  her  efforts." 

"That's  all  very  well,"  said  he,  "  if  nature  would  only  tell  you 
what  to  do,  but  nature  leaves  you  like  a  Yankee  quack  as  you  are, 
to  guess." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "I  am  a  Yankee,  and  I  aint  above  ownin'  to  it, 
and  so  are  yon,  but  you  seem  ashamed  of  your  broughtens  up,  and 
1  must  say  I  don't  think  you  are  any  great  credit  to  them.  Natur, 
though  you  don't  know  it,  because  you  are  all  for  art,  does  tell  you 
what  to  do,  in  a  voice  so  clear  you  can't  liclp  hearing  it,  and  in 
language  so  plain,  you  can't  help  understandin'  it.  For  it  don't 
use  chain  shot  words  like  '  pharmacopoeia'  and  '  Pierian,'  and  soon, 
that  is  neither  Greek  nor  Latin,  nor  good  English,  nor  vulgar 
tongue.  And  more  than  that,  it  shows  you  what  to  do.  And  the 
•woods,  ami  the  springs,  and  the  soil  is  full  of  its  medicines  and 
potions.  Book  doctorin'  is  like  book  farmin'.  a  beautiful  thing  in 
tneory,  but  ruination  in  practice." 

''  Well,"  said  he,  with  a  toss  of  his  head,  "this  is  very  good 
stump  oratory,  and  if  you  ever  run  agin  a  doctor  at  an  election,  I 
snouldn't  wonder  if  you  won  it,  for  most  peopin  will  join  you  in 
pullin'  down  your  superiors.'' 

That  word  superiors  grigged  me,  thinks  I,  "  My  boy,  I'll  just  take 
that  expression,  roll  it  up  into  a  ball,  and  shy  it  back  at  you,  in  a 
vay  that  will  make  you  sing  out,  pen  and  ink,  I  know.  u  Well," 
sais  I,  quite  mild,  (I  am  alwavs  mild  when  I  am  mad,  a  keen  razor 
is  always  smooth)  ;  4i  have  you  any  other  thing  to  say  about 
natur  '*" 

"Yes,"  sais  he,  "do  you  know  what  healin'  by  theirs*  intention 
i«,  for  that  is  a  nateral  operation  ?  Answer  me  that,  will  you?" 

u  You  mean  the  second  intention,  don't  you  T'  sais  I. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "  I  mean  what  I  say." 

"  Well,  EUlad,"  sais  I,  "  my  brother,  1  will  answer  both.  First, 
about  the  election,  and  then  about  the  process  of  healin',  and  alter 
that  we  won't  argue  no  more,  for  you  get  so  hot  always,  I  am  afraid 
you  will  hurt  my  feelius.  First,"  sais  I,  "  1  have  no  idea  of  runniu 
agin  a  doctor  eithe*  at  an  election  or  elsewhere,  so  make  yourself 


{J4:  T  II  E     W  O  U  N  D  S     O  F     T  II  K     HEART. 

quite  easy  on  that  score,  for  if  I  did,  as  lie  is  my  superior,  I  shoul.l 
be  sure  to  get  the  worst  of  it." 

"  How,  Sain,"  said  he,  lookin'  quite  pleased,  seein'  me  kinder 
knock  under  that  svay. 

"  Why  dod  drot  if,"  suis  I,  "  Eldad,  if  I  was  such  a  born  fool  as 
to  run  agin  a  doctor,  his  clothes  would  fill  mine  so  chock  full  ot 
asafcetida  and  brimstone,  I'd  smell  strong  enough  to  pysen  a  poll 
cat.  Phew  !  the  very  idea  makes  me  sick  ;  don't  come  any  nearer 
or  I  shall  fain';.  Oh,  no,  I  shall  give  rr.y  superiors  a  wide  berth, 
depend  upon  it.  Then,"  sals  I,  "  secondly,  as  to  healin'  by  the  first 
intention.  I  have  heard  of  it,  but  never  ^aw  it  practised  yet.  A 
doctor's  first  intention  is  to  make  money,  and  the  second  is  to  heal 
the  wound.  You  have  been  kind  enoi-^h  to  treat  me  to  a  bit  of 
poetry,  now  I  won't  be  in  your  debt,  so  1  will  just  give  you  two 
lines  in  return.  Arter  you  went  to  Philadelphia  to  study,  Minister 
used  to  make  me  learn  poetry  twice  a  week.  All  his  books  had 
pencil  marks  h  the  margin,  agin  all  the  t,id  bits,  and  1  had  to  learn 
more  or  less  of  these  at  a  time,  according  to  their  length.  Among 
others,  I  remember  two  versus  that  just  suit  you  and  me. 

" '  To  tongue  or  pudding  thou  hast  no  pretence. 
Learning  thy  talent  is,  but  miro  is  SENSE.'  " 

"Sam,"  said  he,  and  he  colored  up.  and  looked  choked  with 
rage,  "Sam." 

"Dad,"  sais  I,  and  it  stopped  him  in  a  minute.  It  was  the 
last  syllable  <  f  his  name,  and  when  we  was  boys,  1  alwa\s  called 
him  Dad,  and  as  he  was  older  than  me,  I  sometimes  called  him 
Daddy  on  thf.t  account.  It  touched  i,'.;ii,  1  see  it  did.  Sais.  1, 
"  Dad,  give  me  your  daddle,  fun  is  fun,  and  we  may  carry  our  fun 
too  far,"  and  've  shook  hands.  '•  Daddy,"  sais  I,  "since  1  became 
an  author,  and  honorary  corresponding  member  of  the  Slang- 
w hanger  Sock.ty,  your  occupation  and  mine  su»'t  much  unlike 
is  it  ?  " 

"  How '?  "  said  he. 

"  Why,  Dad,"  sais  I,  "you  cut  up  the  dead,  and  I  cut  up  the 
livin." 

'•  Well,"  sais  he,  "I  give  less  pain,  at  my  rate,  and  besides,  I  do 
more  good,  for  I  make  the  patient  leave  a  legacy  to  posterity,  by 
furnishing  instruction  in  his  own  body." 

"  You  don't  need  to  wait  for  dissection  for  the  bequest,"  sais  I, 
'for  many  a  fellow  after  amputation,  has  said  to  you,  k  a-ley-I-see? 
But  why  is  sawing  oft'  a  leg  an  unprofitable  thing"]  DC  vou  give 
t  up'?  Because  it's  always  boulless"" 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  why  is  an  author  the  laziest  man  in  the 
world  1  Do  you  give  that  up?  Because  he  is  most  of  hi?  tim« 
D  sheets." 


THE      WOUNDS     OF     THE     HEART.  8t% 

**  Well,  that  is  better  than  being  two  sheets  in  the  wind,"  1 
replied.  *  But  why  is  he  the  greatest  coward  in  creation  in  hot 
\\eaiher?  Because  he  is  afraid  somebody  will  quilt  him."' 

••  Oh.  oh,"  said  he,  "  that  is  an  awt'ul  bad  one.  Oh,  oh,  that  is 
like  lead,  it  sinks  to  the  bottom,  boots,  spurs  and  all.  Oh,  come, 
that  will  do,  you  may  take  my  hat.  What  a  droll  fellow  you  be. 
You  are  the  old  sixpence,  and  nothin'  will  ever  change  you.  f 
never  see  a  feller  have  such  spirits  in  my  life;  do  you  know  what 
1  ftin  is  1 " 

u  Oh,"  sals  I,  "  Dad,"  and  I  put  on  a  very  sad  look,  "  Daddy," 
sais  I,  u  my  heart  is  most  broke,  though  I  don't  say  anythin'  about 
it.  There  is  no  one  1  can  confide  in,  and  I  can't  sleep  at  all.  1 
was  think  in'  of  consultin'  you,  for  I  know  1  can  trust  you,  and  1 
am  sure  your  kind  and  affectionate  heart  will  feel  for  me,  and  that 
'your  sound,  excellent  judgment  will  advise  me  what  is  best  to  be 
done  under  the  peculiar  circumstances." 

'•Sam,"  said  he,  "my  good  fellow,  you  do  me  no  more  than 
justice,"  and  he  took  my  hand  very  kindly,  and  sat  down  beside 
me.  ''Sam,  1  am  very  sorry  for  you.  Confide  in  me;  I  will  be 
as  secret  as  the  grave.  Have  you  consulted  dear  old  Minister  I" 

"  Oh,  no,1'  said  J,  "  Minister  is  a  mere  child." 

"  True,  true,  my  brother,"  said  he,  4i  he  is  a  good  worthy  man, 
but  a  mere  eh. Id,  as  you  say.  Is  it  an  affair  of  the  heart,  Sam?  " 

'•Oh,  no,"  sais  I,  "  1  wish  it  was,  for  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever 
die  of  a  broken  heart  for  any  one,  it  don't  pay." 

"  Js  it  a  pecuniary  ati'air  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  if  it  was  it  might  be  borne,  an  artful  dodge,  a  good 
spekelation,  or  a  regular  burst  would  soon  cure  that." 

"  1  hope  it  ain't  an  allair  of  law.''  said  he,  lookin'  frightened  to 
death,  as  if  I  had  done  something  dreadful  bad. 

"No,  1  wish  it  was,  for  a  misnomer,  an  alibi,  a  nonjoinder,  a 
demurrer,  a  nonsuit,  a  freemason  or  a  know-nothin'  sign  to  a  juror, 
a  temperance  wink,  or  an  orange  nod  to  a  partizan  judge,  or  some 
cussed  quirk  or  quibble  or  another,  would  carry  me  through  it. 
No,  it  ain't  that." 

"  What  is  it  then1?" 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  a  bustin'  out  a  larfin,  "I  am  most  dead  some 
t:mes  with  ihejumpin'  toothache." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he.  "1  never  was  sold  so  before,  I  vow;  I 
Cftve  in,  1  holler,  and  wjll  stand  treat." 

That's  the  way  we  ended  our  controversy  abcut  wounds. 

But  he  may  say  what  he  likes,  I  consider  myself  rather  a  dab  al 
healing  bodily  ones.  As  to  those  of  the -heart  I  haven't  had  the 
experience,  tor  1  am  not  a  father  confessor  to  galls,  and  of  course 
aiut  consulted.  But  it  appears  to  me  clergyman  don't  know 
u  -ich  about  the  right  M  ay  to  treat  them.  The  heart  is  a  great 


g6         THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART. 

word.  In  itself  it's  nothin'  but  a  thing  that  swells  and  contracts, 
and  keeps  the  blood  a  movin ;  a  sort  of  central  post-office  that 
communicates  with  all  the  great  lines  and  has  way  stations  to  all 
the  remote  parts.  Like  that,  there  is  no  sleep  in  it  day  or  night. 
Love,  hope,  fear,  despair,  disappointment,  ambition,  pride,  suppli- 
cation, craft,  cant,  fraud,  piety,  speculation,  secrets,  tenderness, 
bitterness,  duty,  disobedience,  truth,  falsehood,  gratitude,  humbug, 
and  all  sorts  of  such  things  pass  through  it  or  wait  till  called  for; 
they  "are  thar."  All  these  are  dispersed  by  railways,  expresses, 
fast  and  slow  coaches  and  carriers.  By  a  figure  of  speech  all 
these  things  are  sumtotalized,  and  if  put  on  paper,  the  depository 
is  called  the  post-office,  and  the  place  where  they  are  conceived 
and  hatched  and  matured,  the  heart, 

Well,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  has  any  feeling.  They  are 
merely  the  edifices  respectively  designed  for  these  operations. 
The  thing  and  its  contents  are  in  one  case  called  the  heart ;  but 
the  contents  only  of  the  other  are  called  the  mail.  Literally, 
threfore,  the  heart  is  a  muscle,  or  some  such  an  afl'air,  and  nothing 
more  ;  but  figuratively  it  is  a  general  term  that  includes,  expresses, 
and  stands  for  all  these  things  together.  \Ve  talkof  it,  therefore,  as 
a  living,  animated,  responsible  being  that  thinks  for  itself,  and  acts 
through  its  agents.  It  is  either  our  spiritual  part,  or  something 
spiritual  within  us.  Subordinate  or  independent  of  us — guiding  or 
obeying  us — influencing  or  influenced  by  us.  We  speak  of  it,  and 
others  treat  it  as  separate,  for  they  and  we  say  our  heart.  We 
give  it  a  color  and  a  character  :  it  may  be  a  black  heart  or  a  base 
heart ;  it  may  be  a  brave  or  a  cowardly  one ;  it  may  be  a  sound 
or  a  weak  heart  also,  and  a  true  or  a  false  one  ;  generous  or 
ungrateful ;  kind  or  malignant,  and  so  on. 

It  strikes  me  natur  would  have  been  a  more  suitable  one;  but 
poets  got  hold  of  it,  .and  they  bedevil  everything  they  touch. 
Instead  of  speaking  of  a  critter's  heart,  therefore,  it  would  to  my 
mind  have  been  far  better  to  have  spoke  of  the  natur  of  the  animal, 
for  I  go  the  whole  hog  for  human  natur.  But  I  suppose  nobody 
would  understand  me  if  I  did,  and  would  say  1  had  no  heart  to  say 
so.  I'll  take  it  therefore  as  I  find  it — a  tiling  having  a  body  or 
substance  that  can  be  hurt,  and  a  spirit  that  can  be  grieved. 

Well  as  such,  1  don't  somehow  think  ministers  in  a  general  way 
know  how  to  treat  it.  The  heart,  in  its  common  acceptation,  is 
very  sensitive  and  must  be  handled  genii y  ;  if  grief  is  there,  it 
must  be  soothed  and  consoled,  and  hope  called  in  to  open  views  of 
better  things.  If  disappointment  has  left  a  sting,  the  right  way  is 
to  show  a  sufferer  it  might  have  been  wuss,  or  that  if  his  wishes 
had  been  fulfilled,  they  might  have  led  to  something  mure  disas- 
trous. If  pride  has  been  wounded,  the  patient  must  be  humored 
by  agreeing  with  him,  in  the  first  instance,  that  he  has  heen  shame 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  THE   HEART          87 

fu!ly  usfd  ;  (for  that  ad  .-nits  his  right  to  feel  hurt,  which  is  a  great 
th  ng :)  and  then  he  may  be  convinced  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
acknowledge  it.  for  he  is  superior  to  h;s  enemy,  and  in  reality  so 
far  above  him  it  would  only  gratify  him  to  think  he  was  of  conse- 
quence enough  to  be  hated.  If  he  has  met  with  a  severe  pecuniary 
loss  in  business,  he  ought  to  be  told  it's  the  fortune  of  trade ;  how 
lucky  he  is  he  aint  ruined,  he  can  artord  and  must  expect  losses 
occasionally.  If  he  frets  over  it,  it  will  hurt  his  mercantile  credit, 
and  after  all,  he  will  never  miss  it,  except  in  a  figure  in  the  bottom 
of  his  balance-sheet,  and  besides,  riches  aint  happiness,  and  how 
little  a  man  can  get  out  of  them  at  best;  and  a  minister  ought  to 
be  abl  to  have  a  good  story  to  tell  him,  with  some  point  in  it,  for 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  sound  philosophy  in  a  good  anecdote. 

He  miuht  sav,  for  instance  :  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  John  Jacob 
Astor  1" 

"  No,  never." 

"  What,  not  of  John  Jacob  Astor,  the  richest  man  in  all  the  une- 
varsal  United  States  of  America?  The  man  that  owns  all  the 
brown  and  white  bears,  silver-gray  and  jet-black  foxes,  sables, 
otters,  stone  martins,  ground  squirrels,  and  every  created  critter 
that  has  a  fur  jacket,  away  up  about  the  North  Pole,  and  lets  them 
wear  them,  for  furs  don't  keep  well,  moths  are  death  on  'em,  and 
too  main  at  a  time  glut  the  market ;  so  he  lets  them  run  till  he 
wants  them,  and  then  sends  and  skins  them  alive  in  spring  when  it 
ain't  too  cold,  and  waits  till  it  grows  again  ?  " 

44  No,  never,"  sais  the  man  with  the  loss. 

14  Well,  if  you  had  been  stript  stark  naked  and  turned  loose  that 
way,  you  might  have  complained.  Oh !  you  are  a  lucky  man,  I 
can  tell  you." 

4  Well,"  sais  old  Minus,  4'how  in  the  world  does  he  own  all 
them  animals'?" 

44  If  he  don't,"  sais  preacher,  "  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  who 
does;  and  if  nobody  else  does,  I  think  his  claim  won't -be  disputed 
in  no  court  under  heaven.  Don't  )ou  know  him?  Go  and  see 
him.  He  will  make  your  fortune  as  he  has  done  for  many  others. 
He  is  the  richest  man  you  ever  heard  of.  He  owns  the  Astor 
House  Hotel  to  New  York,  which  is  bigger  than  some  whole  towns 
on  the  Nova  Scotia  coast.'1  And  he  could  say  that  with  great 
truth,  for  I  know  a  town  that's  on  the  chart,  that  has  only  a  court- 
house, a  groggery,  a  jail,  a  blacksmith's  shop,  and  the  wreck  of  a 
Quebec  vessel  on  the  beach. 

"  Well,  a  man  went  to  him  lately,  and  sais  he:  'Are  you  the 
great  John  Jacob?' 

4i'  I  am  John  Jacob,'  said  he,  'but  I  aint  great.  The  sun  is  so 
Mmighty  hot  here  in  New  York,  no  man  is  large;  he  is  roasted 
down  like  a  race-horse.' 


£3         THE  WOUNDS  OF  THS  HEART. 

" '  I  don't  mean  that,'  said  the  poor  man.  bowin'  and  beggin 

pardon. 

'•'Oh,'  sais  he,  'von  mean  great-grandfather,  laughing.  INo,  I 
hinte  come  that  yet;  but  Astoria  Ann  Oregon,  my  granddaughter, 
savs  I  am  to  be  about  the  fore  part  of  next  June.' 

'"  Well,  the  man  see  he  was  getting  rigged,  so  he  came  to  the 
pint  at  once.  Sais  he,  '  Do  you  want  a  c!erk  ?' 

'"I  guess  I  do,'  said  he.     '  Are  you  a  good  accountant? ' 
"' Have  been  accountant-book-keeper  and  agent  for  twenty-fivft 
years,'  sais  stranger. 

'«  Well,  John   Jacob  see  the  critter  wouldn't  suit  him,  bnt  he 
thought  he  wo  aid  carry  out  the  joke,     bais  he,   '  How  would  you 
like  to  take  charge  of  my  almighty  everlastin'  property  ?' 
"  '  Delighted  ! '  says  the  goney. 

" '  Well,'  said  Mr.  Astor,  '  I  am  tired  to  death  looking  after  it; 
if  you  will  relieve  me  and  do  my  work,  i'il  give  you  what  1  get  out 
of  it  myself!' 

" '  Done ! '  said  the  man,  takin'  off  hie,  hat,  and  bowin'  down  tc 
the  ground.  '1  am  under  a  great  obligation  to  you  ;  depend  upon 
it  you  will  get  a  good  account  of  it.' 

'"  '  1  have  no  doubt  of  it,'  said  John  Jacob.  '  Do  your  part  faith- 
fully,' ('  Never  fear  me,'  said  the  clerk.)  '  and  honestly  I  will  fulfil 
mine.  All  I  get  out  of  it  is  my  board  and  clothing,  and  you  shall 
have  the  same.' 

"  Ah  !  my  friend,"  the  preacher  might  say,  "how  much  wisdom 
there  is  in  John  Jacob  Astor's  remark.  What  more  has  the  Queen 
of  England,  cr  the  richest  peer  in  the  land,  out  of  all  their  riches 
than  'their  board  and  cloihing.'  So  don't  i-epine,  my  friend. 
Cheer  up  !  1  vvill  come  and  fast  on  canvas  back  duck  with  you  to- 
morrow, for  it's  Friday ;  and  whatever  lives  on  aquatic  food  is 
fishy— a  duck  is  twice  laid  fish.  A  few  glasses  of  champagne  at 
dinner,  and  a  cool  bottle  or  two  of  claret  after  will  set  you  all 
right  again  in  i  jiffy." 

If  a  man's  wife  races  off  and  leaves  him,  which  aint  the  highest 
compliment  ho  can  receive,  he  should  visit  him  ;  but  it's  most 
prudent  not  to  introduce  the  subject  himself.  If  broken-heart  talks 
of  it,  minister  shouldn't  make  light  ot  it,  for  wounded  pride  is 
mighty  tender,  but  say  it's  a  dreadful  thing  to  leave  so  good,  so 
kind,  so  indulgent,  so  liberal,  so  confiditv  a  man  as  you,  if  the  case 
will  bear  it,  (in  a  general  way  it's  a  man's  own  fault) ;  and  if  it 
won't  bear  it.  why  then  there  really  is  a  guilty  man,  on  whom  he 
can  indulge  himself,  to  expend  a  few  flowers  of  speech.  And  arter 
restin'  here  awhile,  he  should  hint  at  the  consolation  that  is  always 
offered,  "  of  the  sea  having  better  fish  than  ever  was  pulled  out  of 
it,:'  and  so  on. 

Well   the  \\hole   catalogue  offers  similar  topics,   and   if  a  mau 


THK  WOUNDS  OF  THE  HEART.          89 

will,  while  kindly,  conscientiously  and  strictly  sticking  to  the  truth, 
offer  such  consolation  as  a  good  man  may.  taking  care  to  remem- 
ber that  manner  is  everything,  and  all  these  arguments  are  n)t 
only  no  good,  but  do  harm  if  the  misfortunate  critter  is  rubbed 
agin  the  grain  ;  he  will  then  prepare  the  sufferer  to  receive  the 
only  true  consolation  he  has  to  offer — the  consolation  of  religion. 
At  least,  that's  my  idea. 

Now,  instead  of  that,  if  he  gets  hold  of  a  sinner,  he  first  offends 
his  delicacy,  and  then  scares  him  to  death.  He  tells  him  to  confess 
all  the  nasty  particulars  of  the  how,  the  where,  the  when,  and  the 
who  with.  He  ain't  do  nothing  till  his  curiosity  is  satisfied,  gen- 
eral terms  won't  do.  He  must  have  all  the  dirty  details.  And 
then  he  talks  to  him  of  the  devil,  an  unpronouncible  place,  fire 
and  brimstone  and  endless  punishment.  And  assures  him  if  ever 
he  hopes  to  be  happy  hereafter,  he  must  be  wretched  for  the  rest 
of  his  life :  for  the  evangelical  rule  is,  that  a  man  is  never  forgiven 
up  to  the  last  minute  when  it  can't  be  helped.  Well,  every  man 
to  his  own  trade.  Perhaps  they  are  right,  and  I  am  wrong.  But 
my  idea  is,  you  can  coax,  but  can't  bully  folks.  You  can  win  sin- 
ners, but  you  ant  t  force  them.  The  door  of  the  Jieart  must  be  opened 
softly,  and  to  do  that  you  must  He  the  hinge  and  the  lock. 

Well,  to  get  back  to  my  story,  and  1  hardly  know  where  I  left 
off,  I  think  the  poor  gall  was  speakin'  of  Indians  in  a  way  that  indi- 
cated she  felt  mortified  at  her  descent,  or  that  somehow  or  some- 
how else,  there  was  a  sore  spot  there.  Well,  having  my  own 
thoughts  about  the  wounds  of  the  heart  and  so  on,  as  1  have  stated, 
I  made  up  my  mind  1  must  get  at  the  secret  by  degrees,  and  see. 
whether  my  theory  of  treatment  was  right  or  not. 

Sais  I,  •'  Miss,  you  say  these  sort  of  things  are  bartered  at  the 
north-west,  for  others  of  more  use.  There  is  one  thing,  though, 
I  must  remark,  they  never  were  exchanged  for  anything  half  so 
beautiful." 

"  1  am  glad  you  like  it,"  she  said,  '•  but  look  here  ;"  and  she  took 
out  of  her  basket  a  pair  of  moccasins,  the  soles  of  which  were  of 
moose  leather,  tanned  and  dressed  like  felt,  and  the  upper  part 
black  velvet,  on  which  various  patterns  were  worked  with  beads. 
I  think  I  never  saw  anything  of  the  kind  so  exquisite,  for  those 
nicknacks  the  Nova  Scotia  Indians  make,  are  rough 'in  material, 
coarse  in  workmanship,  and  inelegant  in  design. 

'•  Which  do  you  prefer?''  said  she. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  I  ain't  hardly  able  to  decide.  The  bark  work 
is  more  delicate  and  more  tasteful  ;•  but  it's  more  European  in 
appearance.  The  other  is  more  like  our  own  countn,  and  I  ain't 
sure  that  it  isn't  quite  as  handsome  as  the  other.  But  1  think  I 
pri/e  the  moccasins  most.  The  na:ne,  the  shape,  ai  d  the  onift 
tuents  all  tell  of  the  praiiie." 


90  THE     WOCND8     OF    THE     HEA.BT. 

"  Well,  then,"  she  said.  "  it  shall  be  the  moccasins,  you  must 
have  them,  as  the  exchange  for  the  bock." 

"Oh,"  said  I,  taking  out  of  mv  pocket  the  first  and  second 
Clockmakers,  I  had  no  other  of  my  books  on  board,  and  giving 
them  to  her,  "  I  am  afraid,  Miss,  that  I  either  said  or  did  some- 
thing to  offend  you  this  morning.  I  assure  you  I  did  not  mean  to 
do  so,  and  I  am  very  sorry  for  it." 

"No,  no,"  :*he  said,  "it  was  me;  but  my  temper  has  been 
greatly  tried  since  I  came  to  this  country.  I  was  very  wrong,  for 
you,  (and  she  laid  a  stress  on  that  word  as  if  J  was  an  exception,) 
have  been  very  kind  to  me." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "Miss,  sometimes  there  are  things  that  try  us 
and  our  feelings,  that  we  don't  choose  to  talk  about  to  strangers, 
and  sometimes  people  annoy  us  on  these  subjects.  It  wouldn't  be 
right  of  me  to  pry  into  any  one's  secrets,  but  this  I  w  II  say,  any 
person  that  would  vex  you,  let  him  be  who  he  will,  can  be  no  man, 
he'd  better  not  do  it  while  I  am  here,  at  any  rate,  or  he'll  have  to 
look  for  his  jacket  very  quick,  I  know." 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  she  said,  "  I  know  1  am  half  Indian,  and  some 
folks  want  to  make  me  feel  it." 

"  And  you  took  me  for  one  o'  them  cattle,"  said  I,  "  but  if  you 
knew  what  was  passin'  in  my  mind,  you  wouldn't  a  felt  angrv,  1 
know." 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  said  she,  "  for  I  know  you  won't  say  anything 
to  me  you  oughtn't  to.  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  there  is,  between  you  and  me,  a  young  lady 
here  to  the  southern  pait  of  this  province  I  have  set  my  heart  on, 
though  whether  she  is  agoin'  to  give  me  hern,  or  give  me  the  mit- 
ten, i  ain't  quite  sartified,  but  I  rather  kinder  sorter  guess  so,  tnan 
kinder  sorter  not  so."  I  just  throwed  that  in,  that  she  mightn't 
misunderstand  me.  "Weil,  she  is  the  most  splendiferous  gall  I 
ever  sot  eyes  on,  since  1  was  created;  and,"  sais  I  to  myself,  '•  now, 
here  is  one  of  a  different  st\  le  of  beauty,  which  on  'eai  is,  take  her 
all  in  all,  the  handsomest  1  " 

Half  Indian  or  half  Gaelic,  or  whatever  she  was,  she  was  a 
woman,  and  she  didn't  flare  up  this  time,  I  tell  you.  but  taking  up 
the  work-bag,  she  said  : 

'^Give  this  to  her,  as  a  present  from  me." 

Thinks  I,  "  My  pretty  brunette,  if  I  don't  get  the  heart  opened 
to  me,  and  give  you  a  better  opinion  of  yourself,  and  set  you  all 
straight  with  mankind  in  general,  and  the  Doctor  in  particular, 
afore  I  leave  Ship  Harbor,  I'll  give  over  forever,  undervalyin'  the 
skill  of  ministers,  that's  a  fact.  That  will  do  for  trial  number  one, 
by  and  bye  I'll  make  trial  number  two." 

Taking  uo  the  "  Clookmaker."  and  looking  at  it,  she  said :  "  Is  this 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  FHK  HEART.         91 

book  all  true,  Mr.  Slick  !  Did  you  say  and  do  all  that's  set  down 
here  ?  " 

u  Well,"  sais  I,  "  I  wouldn't  just  like  to  swear  to  every  word  of 
it,  but  most  of  it  is  true,  thcugh  some  things  are  embellished  a 
little,  and  some  are  fancy  sketches.  But  they  are  all  true  to 
nature." 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  she,  "  what  a  pity  ;  how  shall  I  ever  be  able 
to  tell  whit's  true,  and  what  ain't?  Do  you  think  I  shall  be  able 
to  understand  it,  who  know  so  little,  and  have  seen  so  little?" 

"  You'll  comprehend  every  word  of  it,"  sais  I,  "  1  wrote  it  on 
purpose,  so  every  person  should  do  so.  I  have  tried  to  stick  to 
life  as  close  as  I  could,  and  there  is  nothin'  like  natur,  it  goes  home 
to  the  heart  of  us  all." 

"  Do  tell  me,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  she,  "what  natur  is,  for  I  don't 
know." 

Well,  now  that's  a  very  simple  question,  ain't  it?  and  any  one 
that  reads  this  book  when  you  publish  it,  will  say,  "  Why,  every- 
body knows  what  natur  is,"  and  any  schoolboy  can  answer  that 
question.  But  I'll  take  a  bet  of  twenty  dollars,  not  one  in  a  him- 
clred  will  define  that  tarin  right  off  the  reel,  without  stopping.  It 
fairly  stumpt  me,  and  I  ain't  easily  brought  to  a  hack  about  com- 
mon things.  I  could  a  told  her  what  natur  was  circumbendibusly, 
and  no  mistake,  though  that  takes  time.  But  to  define  it  briefly 
and  quickly,  as  Minister  used  to  say,  if  it  can  be  done  at  all,  which 
1  don't  think  it  can,  all  I  can  say  is,  as  galls  say  to  conundrums,  "  I 
can't,  so  1  give  it  up.  What  is  it  ?" 

Perhaps  it's  my  own  fault,  for  dear  old  Mr.  Hopewell  used  to 
say,  "Sam,  your  head  ain't  like  any  one  elses.  Most  men's  minds 
resembles  what  appears  on  the  water,  when  you  throw  a  stone  in 
it.  There  is  a  centre,  and  circles  form  round  it,  each  one  a  little 
larger  than  the  other,  until  the  impelling  power  ceases  to  act. 
Now  you  set  off  on  the  outer  circle,  and  go  round  and  round 
e\vr  so  often,  until  you  arrive  at  the  centre  where  you  ought  to 
have  started  from  at  first;  1  never  see  the  beat  of  you." 

•'  It's  natur,"  sais  1,  "  Minister." 

"  Natur."  sais  he,  "  what  the  plague  has  natur  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "  can  one  man  surround  a  flock  of  sheep  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  nonsense,"  sais  he;  '•  of  course  he  can't." 

"  Well,  that's  what  this  child  can  do/'  sais  I.  "  1  make  a  good 
sizeable  ring-fence,  open  the  bars,  and  put  them  in,  for  if  it's  too 
small,  they  turn  and  out  agin'  like  wink,  and  they  will  never  so 
much  as  look  at  it  a  second  time.  Well,  when  I  get  them  there,  i 
narrow  and  narrow  the  circle,  till  it's  all  solid  wool  and  mutton, 
and  I  hive  every  mother's  son  of  them.  It  takes  time,  for  I  am 
all  alone,  and  have  no  one  to  help  me  ;  but  they  are  thar'  at  last. 
Now,  suppose  I  went  to  the  centre  of  the  field,  and  started  off 


02         THE  WOUNDS  OK  THE  HEART. 

arter  them,  what  would  il  end  in  ?  Why,  I'de  run  one  down,  and 
have  him,  and  that's  the  July  one  I  could  catch.  But  while  1  was 
a  chasin' of  him,  all  the  rest  would  dispeise  like  a  congregation 
arter  church,  and  cut  off  like  wink,  each  on  his  own  way,  as  if  he 
wras  afraid  the  minister  was  a-goin  to  run  after  'em,  head  'em,  and 
fetch  'em  back  and  pen  'em  up  again." 

He  squirmed  his  face  a  little  nt  that  part  about  the  congregation, 
I  consaited,  but  didn't  say  nothin',  for  he  knew  it  was  true. 

"  Now,  my  reason,"  sais  I,  "  for  goin'  round  and  round  is,  I 
like  to  gather  up  all  that's  in  the  circle,  carry  it  with  me,  and 
stack  it  in  the  centre." 

Lord  !  what  fun  1  have  had  pokin'  that  are  question  of  Jessie's 
sudden  to  fellows  since  then !  Sais  1,  to  Brother  Eldad  once, 

"  Dad,  we  often  talk  about  natur  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Tut,"  t-ais  he,  "  don't  ask  me ;  every  fool  knows  what 
natur  is." 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I ;  "  that's  the  reason  I  came  to  you." 

He  just  up  with  a  book,  and  came  plaguy  near  lettin'  me  have 
it  right  agin  my  head  smash. 

"Don't  do  that,"  sais  1,  ''Daddy;  I  was  only  joking;  but 
what  is  it'? " 

Well,  he  paused  a  moment  and  looked  puzzled  as  a  fellow  does* 
who  is  looking  for  his  spectacles,  and  can't  find  them  because,  hb 
has  shoved  them  up  on  his  forehead. 

"  Why,"  sais  he,  spreadin'  out  his  arm,  "  it's  all  that  you  see, 
and  the  law  that  governs  it." 

Well,  it  warn't  a  bad  shot  that,  for  a  first  trial,  that's  a  fact.  It 
hit  the  target,  though  it  didn't  strike  the  ring. 

"  Oh,"  said  1,  "  then  there  is  none  of  it  at  night,  and  things  can't 
be  nateral  in  the  dark." 

Well,  he  seed  he  had  run  off  the  track,  so  he  braved  it  out.  "  { 
didn't  say  it  was  necessary  to  see  them  all  the  time,"  he  said. 

"Just  so,"  said  I,  "natur  is  what  you  see  and  what  you  don  I 
see ;  but  then  feelin'  ain't  nateral  at  all.     It  strikes  me  that  if—" 
Didn't  1  say,"  said  he,  "  the  laws  that  govern  them  !  " 

"  Well,  where  are  them  laws  writ?" 

"  In  that  are  receipt-book  o'  yourn  you're  so  proud  of,"  said  he,. 
"  W'^hat  do  you  call  it,  Mr.  Wiseacre?" 

"Then,  you  admit,"  sais  I,  "any  fool  cant  answer  that 
question  1  '' 

'•Perhaps  you  can,"  sais  he. 

"Oh,  Dad!"  sais  I,  "you  picked  up  that  shot  and  throwed  it 
back.  ^  When  a  feller  does  that  it  shows  he  is  short  of  ammunition. 
But,  111  tell  you  what  my  opinion  is.  There  is  no  such  a  thina 
as  natur." 

"  What  ?  "  said  he. 


THE     WOUNDS     OF     THE     HEART.  P3 

"  Why  there  is  no  such  a  thing  as  natur  in  reality ,  it  is  only  a 
figure  of  speech.  The  confounded  poets  got  hold  of  the  idea  and 
pat-sonified  it  as  they  have  the  word  heart,  and  talk  about  the 
voice  of  natur  and  its  sensations,  and  its  laws  and  its  simplicities, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  The  noise  water  makes  in  tumblin'  over 
stones  in  a  brook,  a  spluterin'  like  a  toothless  old  woman,  scoldin' 
with  a  mouthful  1  of  hot  tea  in  her  lantern  cheek  is  called  the  voice 
of  natur  speaking  in  the  stream.  And  when  the  winJ  blows  and 
scatters  about  all  the  blossoms  from  your  fruit  trees,  and  you  are 
a  ponderin'  over  the  mischief,  a  gall  comes  along  side  of  }ou  with 
a  book  of  poetry  in  her  hand  and  sais: 

" '  Hark  !  do  you  hear  the  voice  of  natur  amid  the  trees?  Isn't 
it  sweet  ? ' 

"  Well,  it's  so  absurd  you  can't  help  laughin'  and  saying,  '  No,' 
but  then  I  hear  the  voice  of  natur  closer  still,  and  it  says,  ain't  she 
a  sweet  critter  1 

"  Well,  a  cultivated  field  which  is  a  work  of  art,  dressed  with 
artificial  manures,  and  tilled  with  artificial  tools,  perhaps  by  steam, 
is  <-;uled  the  smiling  face  of  nature.  Here  nature  is  strong  and 
there  exhausted,  now  animated,  and  then  asleep.  At  the  poles, 
the  features  of  nature  are  all  frozen,  and  as  stiff*  as  a  poker,  and  in 
the  West  Indies  burnt  up  to  a  cinder.  What  a  pack  of  stuff  it  is! 
It  is  just  a  pretty  word  like  pharmacopoeia  and  pierian  spring,  and 
so  forth.  I  hate  poets,  stock,  lock,  and  barrel ;  the  whole  seed, 
breed  and  generation  of  them.  If  you  see  a  she  one,  look  at  her 
stockings ;  they  are  all  wrinkled  about  her  ankles>  and  her  shoes 
are  down  to  heel,  and  her  hair  is  an  tangled  as  the  mane  of  a  two- 
year  old  colt.  And  if  you  see  a  he  one,  you  see  a  mooney  sort  of 
man  either  very  sad  or  so  wild-looking  you  think  he  is  half-mad  ; 
he  eats  and  sleeps  on  earth,  and  that's  all.  The  rest  of  the  time  he 
is  sky-high,  trying  to  find  inspiration  and  sublimity  like  Byron,  in 
gin  and  water.  1  like  folks  that  have  common-sense." 

Well  to  get  back  to  my  story.  Said  Jessie  to  me :  "Mr.  Slick, 
what  is  natur  ?  " 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  Miss,  it's  not  very  easy  to  explain  it  so  as  to 
make  it  intelligible  ;  but  I  will  try.  This  world  and  all  that  is  in 
it,  is  the  work  of  God.  When  he  made  it,  he  gave  it  laws  or 
properties  that  govern  it,  and  so  to  every  living  or  inanimate 
ihing;  and  these  properties  or  laws  are  called  their  nature. 
Nature,  therefore,  is  sometimes  used  for  God  himself,  and  .some- 
times for  the  world  and  its  contents,  and  the  secret  laws  of  action 
imposed  upon  them  when  created.  There  is  one  nature  to  men  ; 
(f  .r  though  they  don't  all  look  alike,  the  laws  of  their  being  are 
the  same.)  and  another  to  horses,  dogs,  fish,  and  so  on.  Each 
class  has  its  own  nature.  For  instance,  it  is  natural  f<»r  fish  to 
inhabit  water  bird*  the  a'r,  and  so  on.  In  general,  it  therefore 


94         THE  WOUNDS  OF  1HK  HEART. 

means  the  universal  law  that  governs  everything.  Do  you  under 
stand  it  ?  "  says  I. 

"Not  just  now,"  she  said,  "but  I  will  when  I  have  time  to 
think  of  it.  Do  you  say  there  is  one  nature  to  all  men." 

"  Yes,  the  same  nature  to  Indian  as  to  white  men— all  the  same." 

"  Which  is  th-i  best  nature?" 

"It  is  the  same." 

"  Indian  and  white  are  they  both  equal  ?" 

"  Quite—" 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Every  mite  and  morsel,  every  bit  and  grain.  Everybody 
don't  think  so  ?  That's  natural  ;  every  race  thinks  it  is  better  than 
another,  and  every  man  thinks  he  is  superior  to  others  ;  and  so 
does  every  woman.  They  think  their  children  the  best  and  hand- 
somest. A  bear  thinks  her  nasty,  dirty,  shapeless,  tailless  cubs  the 
most  beautiful  things  in  all  creation." 

She  laughed  at  that,  but  as  suddenly  relapsed  into  a  fixed  gloom. 
"  If  red  and  white  men  are  both  equal,  and  have  the  same  nature," 
she  said,  "  what  becomes  of  those  who  are  neither  red  nor  white; 
who  have  no  country,  no  nation,  no  tribe,  scorned  by  each,  and  the 
tents  and  the  houses  of  both  closed  against  them.  Are  they  equal  1 
what  does  nature  say  ?" 

"  There  is  no  difference, "  I  said  ;  "  in  the  eye  of  God  they  are  all 
alike." 

"  God  may  think  and  treat  them  so,"  she  replied,  rising  with 
much  emotion,  "  but  man  does  not." 

1  thought  it  was  as  well  to  change  the  conversation,  and  leave 
her  to  ponder  over  the  idea  of  the  races,  which  seemed  so  new  to 
her.  "So,"  sais  I,  "  I  wonder  the  Doctor  hasn't  arrived  ;  it's  past 
four.  There  he  is,  Jessie  ;  see,  he  is  on  the  beach  ;  he  lias  returned 
by  water.  Come,  put  on  your  bonnet  and  let  you  and  1  go  mid 
meet  him." 

"  \V  ho,  me !"'  she  said,  her  face  expressing  both  surprise  and 
pleasure. 

•'  To  be  sure,"  said  I.  "  You  are  not  afraid  of  me,  Miss,  1 
hope." 

"•  I  warn't  sure  I  heard  you  right,"  she  said,  and  away  she  wen. 
for  her  bonnet. 

Poor  thing  !  it  was  evident  her  position  was  a  very  painful  one 
to  her,  and  that  her  natural  pride  was  deeply  injured.  Poor  dear 
old  Minister  !  if  you  was  now  alive,  and  could  read  this  Journal.  I 
know  what  you  would  say  as  well  as  possible.  "  Sam,"  you  would 
say,  "  this  is  a  fulfilment  of  Scripture.  The  sins  of  the  fathers  are 
visited  on  the  children,  the  e/ecls  of  which  are  visible  in  the  second 
and  third  generation.'1'' 


FIDDLING     AND     DANCING.  95 

CHAPTER  VII. 
FIDDLING  AND  DANCING,  AND  SERVING  THE  DEVIL. 

BY  tk  time  we  had  reached  the  house,  Cutler  joined  us,  and  we 
dined  off  of  the  Doctor'  salmon,  which  was  prepared  in  a  way  that 
1  had  never  seen  before  ;  and  as  it  was  a  touch  above  common,  and 
smacked  of  the  wigwam,  1  must  get  the  receipt.  The  only  way 
for  a  man  who  travels  and  wants  to  get  something  better  thar 
amusement  out  of  it,  is  to  notch  down  anything  new,  for  every 
place  has  something  to  teach  you  in  that  line.  "  The  si/e»t  pi//  is 
the  bextfieder"  but  it  remains  a  pig  still,  and  hastens  its  death  by 
growing  too  fat.  Now  the  talking  traveller  feeds  his  mind  as  well 
as  his  body,  and  soon  finds  the  less  he  pampers  his  appetite  the 
clearer  his  head  is,  and  the  better  his  spirits.  The  great  thing  is  to 
live  and  learn,  and  learn  to  live. 

Now  I  hate  an  epicure  above  all  created  things — worse  than 
lawyers,  doctors,  politicians  and  selfish  fellows  of  all  kinds.  In  a 
giniral  way  he  is  a  miserable  critter,  for  nothin'  is  good  enough  for 
him  or  done  right,  and  his  appetite  gives  itself  as  many  airs,  and 
requires  as  much  waitin'  on  as  a  crotchetty,  fanciful,  peevish  old 
lady  of  fashion.  If  a  man's  sensibility  is  all  in  his  palate,  he  can't 
in  course  have  much  in  his  heart.  Makin' oneself  miserable,  fastin' 
in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  aint  a  bit  more  foolish  than  makin'  oneself 
wretched  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  because  the  sea.  the  air,  and  the 
earth  won't  give  him  the  danties  he  wants,  and  Providence  won't 
send  the  cook  to  dress  them.  To  spend  one's  life  in  eating,  drink- 
ing and  sleeping,  or  like  a  bullock,  in  ruminating  on  food,  reduces 
a  man  to  the  level  of  an  ox  or  an  ass.  The  stomach  is  the  kitchen, 
and  a  very  small  one  too,  in  a  general  way,  and  broiling,  simmer- 
ing, stewing,  baking,  and  steaming,  is  a  goin'  on  there  night  and 
day.  The  atmosphere  is  none  of  the  pleasantest  neither,  and  if  a 
man  chooses  to  withdraw  into  himself  and  live  there,  why  I  don't 
see  what  earthly  good  he  is  to  society,  unless  he  wants  to  wind  up 
life  by  writin'  a  cookery-book.  1  hate  them — that's  just  the  tarm, 
and  1  like  tarms  that  express  what  1  mean. 

I  shall  never  forget  when  I  was  up  to  Michelimackinic.  A  thun 
derin'  long  word,  aint  if?  We  call  it  Mackinic  now  for  shortness. 
But  perhaps  you  wouldn't  nndei  stand  it,  spelt  th;it  way.  no  more 
than  1  did  when  I  was  to  England,  that  Brighton  moans  Brighthrl 
meston,  or  Sissiter  Ciren«>ester,  for  the  English  take  such  liberties 
with  words,  they  can't  afford  to  let  others  do  the  same;  so  1  give 
it  to  you  botk  ways.  Well,  when  I  was  there  last,  I  dined  witn  a 


90  FID  1  LING     AND     DANCING 

village  doctor,  the  greatest  epicure  I  think  I  ever  see  in  all  my  borr. 
days.  He  thought  and  talked  of  nothing  else  from  morning  till 
night  but  eatin'. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick."  said  he,  rubbin  his  hands,  "  this  is  the  tallest 
country  in  the  world  to  live  in.  What  a  variety  of  food  there  is 
here,  fish,  flesh  and  fowl,  wild,  tame  and  mongeral,  fruits,  vegeta- 
bles, and  spongy  plants  !" 

"  What's  that?''  sais  I.  I  always  do  that  when  a  fellow  uses 
strange  words.  "  We  call  a  man  who  drops  in  accidentally  on 
purpose  to  dinner  a  sponging  fellow,  which  means,  if  you  give  him 
the  liquid  he  will  soak  it  up  dry. 

"Spongy  plants,"  sais  he,  u  means  mushrooms  and  the  like." 

"  Ah!"  said  F,  "  mushrooms  are  nateral  to  a  new  soil  like  this. 
Upstarts  we  call  them;  they  arise  at  night,  and  by  next  rnorhiiv 
their  house  is  up  and  its  white  roof  on." 

"  Very  good,"  said  he,  but  not  lookin'  pleased  at  havin'  his  ora- 
tory cut  short  that  way.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  said  he,  "  there  is  a 
poor  man  here  who  richly  deserves  a  pension,  both  from  your  gov- 
ernment and  mine.  He  has  done  more  to  advance  the  culinary 
art  than  either  Ude  or  Soyer." 

"  Who  on  'earth  now  were  they  T'  said  I.  I  knew  well  enough 
who  they  were,  for  when  I  was  to  England  they  used  to  brag 
greatly  of  So\  er  at  the  Reform  Club.  For  ft-ar  folks  would  call 
their  association  house  after  their  pulitics,  "  the  cheap  and  dirty," 
they  built  a  very  splash. affair,  and  to  set  an  example  to  the  state 
in  their  own  establishment,  of  economy  and  reform  in  the  public 
departments,  hired  Soyer,  the  best  cook  of  the,  age,  at  a  salary  that 
would  have  pensioned  half-a-dozen  of  the  poor  worn-out  clerks  in 
Downing  Street.  Vulgarity  is  always  showy.  It  is  a  pretty  word 
"  Reformers."  The  common  herd  of  them  I  don't  mind  much, 
for  rogues  and  fools  always  find  employment  for  each  other.  But 
when  I  hear  of  a  great  reformer  like  some  of  the  big  bugs  to  Eng- 
land, that  have  been  grinning  through  horse-collars  of  late  years, 
like  harlequins  at  fairs,  for  the  amusement,  and  instruction  of  the 
public,  I  must  say  I  do  expect  to  see  a  super-superior  hypocrite. 

Yes,  I  know  who  those  great  artists  Soyer  and  Ude  were,  but  1 
thought  I'd  draw  him  out.  So  1  just  asked  who  on  earth  they  were, 
and  he  explained  at  great  length,  and  mentioned  the  wonderful  dis- 
coveries  they  had  made  in  their  divine  art. 

"  Well,"  sais  1,  "  why  on  earth  don't  your  friend  the  Mack  in  ic 
cook  go  to  London  or  Paris  where  he  won't  want  a  pension,  or  any 
thing  else  if  he  excels  them  great  men  f 

•Bless  you,  Sir,"  he  replied,  "  he  is  merely  a  voyageur." 

'Oh  dear,"  sais  I,  "I  daresay  then  he  can'fry  ham  and  C<T<TS  and 
serve  em  up  in  ile,  boil  salt  beef  and  pork  and  twice  lay  cod-fish, 
and  perhaps  boil  potatoes  nice  and  watery  like  cattle  turnips. 


AND     SERVING     THE     DEVIL.  97 

What  discoveries  could  such  a  rough-and-tumble  fellow  as  that 
make  ?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  didn't  want  to  put  myself  forward, 
for  it  aint  pleasant  to  speak  of  oneself." 

"  Wi-Il,  I  don't  know  that."  sais  1,  •'  I  aint  above  it,  I  assure  you. 
If'y.tti  have  a  horse  to  sell,  put  a  thunderin'  Ions;  price  on  him,  and 
folks  will  think  he  must  be  the  devil  and  all,  and  if  you  want  people 
to  val!y  you  right,  appraise  yourself  at  a  high  figure.  Bray</tn 
saves  advertisin.  I  always  do  it ;  fin-,  as  the  Nova  Scotia  magistrate 
said,  who  sued  his  debtor  before  himself,  '  What's  the  use  of  being 
a  justice,  if  you  can't  do  yourself  justice.'  But  what  was  you  sayin 
about  the  voyageur?" 

*'  Why,  Sir,"  said  he,  "I  made  the  discovery  through  his  instru- 
mentality. He  enabled  me  to  do  it  by  suffering  the  experiments 
to  be  made  on  him.  His  name  was  Alexis  St.  Martin;  he  was  a 
Canadian,  and  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  of  good  constitution, 
robust  and  healihy.  lie  had  been  engaged  in  the  service  of  the 
American  Fur  Company,  as  a  voyageur,  and  was  accidentally 
wounded  by  the  discharge  of  a  musket,  on  the  9th  of  June,  1822. 
The  charge,  consisting  of  powder  and  duck-shot,  was  received  in  his 
left  side;  he  being  at  a  distance  of  not  more  than  one  yard  from 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun.  The  contents  entered  posteriorly,  and  in 
an  oblique  direction,  forward  and  inward,  literally  blowing  off  in 
teguments  and  muscles,  of  the  size  of  a  man's  hand,  fracturing  and 
carrying  away  the  anterior  half  of  the  sixtli  rib,  fracturing  the  fifth 
lacerating  the  lower  portion  of  the  left  lobe  of  the  lungs,  the  dia- 
pliragrn,  and  perforating  the  stomach." 

"Good  gracious!"  sais  I.  "  how  plain  that  is  expressed  !  It  is  as 
clear  as  mud,  that  !  1  do  like  doctors,  for  their  talking  and  writing 
is  intelligible  to  the  meanest  capacity." 

He  looked  pleased,  and  went  ahead  agin. 

'•  After  trying  all  the  means  in  my  power  for  eight  or  ten  months 
to  close  the  orifice,  by  exciting  adhesive  inflammation  in  the  lips  of 
'he  wound,  without  the  least  appearance  of  success,  1  gave  it  up  as 
impracticable,  in  any  other  way  than  that  of  incising  and  bringing 
them  together  by  sutures  ;  an  operation  to  which  the  patient  would 
not  submit.  By  using  the  aperture  which  providence  had  supplied 
us  with  to  communicate  with  the  stomach,  I  ascertained,  by  attach 
ing  a  small  portion  of  food,  of  different  kinds  to  a  string,  and  insert- 
ing it  through  his  side,  the  exact  time  each  takes  for  digestion,  such 
as  beef  or  pork,  or  mutton  or  fowl,  or  fish  or  vegetables,  cooked  in 
different  ways.*  We  all  know  how  long  it  takes  to  dress  them, 

*  The  village  doctor  appears  to  have  appropriated  to  himself  the  credit  due  to 
another.  The  particulars  of  this  remarkable  case  are  to  be  found  in  a  work 
published  in  New  York  in  1833,  entitled  "  Experiments  and  observations  on  ihe 
gastric  juices,  and  the  physiology  of  digestion."  by  \Viliimn  Beaumont,  M  D, 


98  FIDDLING     AND     DANCING 

but  we  did  not  know  how  long  a  time  they  required  for  digestion, 
I  will  show  you  a  comparative  table." 

"Thank  you,''  sais  f,  "but  I  am  afraid  I  must  be  a  moving.'' 
Fact  is,  my  stomach  was  movin'  then,  for  it  fairly  made  me  sick. 
Yes,  I'd  a  plaguy  sight  sooner  see  a  man  embroidering,  which  ig 
about  as  contemptible  an  accomplishment  a-<  an  idler  can  have,  than 
to  hear  him  everlastingly  smack  his  lips,  and  see  him  open  his  eyes 
and  gloat  like  an  anaconda  before  he  takes  down  a  bullock,  horns, 
hair,  and  hoof,  tank,  shank,  and  flank,  at  one  bolt,  as  h'  it  was  an 
opium  pill  to  make  him  sleep. 

VVfll,  all  this  long  lockrum  arose  out  of  my  saying  f  should  like 
to  have  the  receipt  by  which  Jessie's  .sister  had  cookeo  llie  salmon 
for  dinner;  and  1  intend  to  get  it  too,  that's  a  fact.  As  we  con- 
cluded our  meal,  "Doctor,"  sais  1,  "we  have  been  meditating  mis- 
chief in  your  absence.  What  do  you  say  to  our  iruvkin'  a  party  to 
visit  the  '  Bachelor  beaver's  dam]  and  see  your  museum.'*,  fixins, 
betterments,  and  what  not?" 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "I  should  like  it  above  all  things  ;   but — " 

"  But  what,"  said  I. 

"  But  I  am  afraid,  as  you  must  stay  all  night,  if  you  go,  my  poor 
wigwam  wont  accommodate  so  many  with  beds." 

"  Oh  !  some  of  us  will  camp  out,"  sais  I,  "  I  am  used  to  it,  and 
like  it  a  plaguy  sight  better  than  hot  rooms  " 

"Just  the  thing,''  said  he.  '•  Oh  !  Mr.  Slick,  you  are  a  man  after 
my  own  heart.  The  nature  of  all  foresters  is  alike,  red  or  white, 
English  or  French,  Yankee  or  Blue-nose." 

Jessie  looked  up  at  the  coincidence  of  that  expression  with  what 
I  had  said  yesterdav. 

"Blue-nose,"  said  I,  "Doctor,"  to  familiarize  the  girl's  mind  to 
the  idea  I  had  started  of  the  mixed  race  being  on  "a  footing  of 
equality  with  the  other  two,  ''Blue-nose  ought  to  be  the  best,  for 
he  is  half  Yankee,  and  half  English ;  tsvo  of  the  greatest  people  OP 
the  face  of  the  airth  !" 

"  True,"  said  he,  "  by  right  he  ought  to  be,  and  it's  his  own  fault 
if  he  aint." 

I  thought  it  would  be  as  well  to  drop  the  allusion  there,  so  1 
said,  "That's  exactly  what  mother  used  to  say  when  I  did  anything 
wrong:  'Sam,  aint  you  ashamed.'  'No,  Taint,'  said  I.  "'Then 
you  ought  to  be,'  she'd  reply. 

"  It's  a  fixed  fact,  then,"  said  I,  "  that  we  go  to-morrow  to  the 
Beaver  dam  T' 

_  "Yes,"  said  he,  "I  shall  be  deligh'ed.  Jessie,  you  and  your 
sister  will  accompany  us,  won't  you  T 

Surgeon  in  the  United  States  Arm7,  and  also  in  the  «  Albion"  newspaper  of 
the  same  place  for  January  4,  1834. 


AND     SERVING     THE     DEVIL.  99 

J'I  should  be  charmed,"  she  replied. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  pleased  with  it,"  he  continued.  "  it  will  just 
suit  y<  u  ;  it's  si>  quiet  and  retired.  But  you  must  let  Etiemie  take 
the  horse,  and  carry  a  letter  to  my  st-rgeant  and  his  commanding 
otlicer,  Betty,  to  give  them  not  ice  of  our  visit,  or  he  will  go  through 
the  whole  campaign  in  Spain  before  he  is  done,  and  tell  you  how 
ill  the  commissariat-people  were  used,  in  not  having  notice  given 
to  them  to  lay  in  stores.  I  never  was  honored  with  the  presence 
of  ladies  there  before,  and  he  will  tell  you  he  is  broken-hearted  at 
the  accommodation.  I  don't  know  what  there  is  in  the  house  ;  but 
the  rod  and  the  gun  will  supply  us,  1  think,  and  the  French  boy 
when  he  returns,  will  bring  me  word  if  am  thing  is  wanted  from 
the  shore." 

"Jessie,1'  said  I,  "  can't  you  invite  the  two  Highland  lassies  and 
their  brother,  that  were  here  last  night,  and  let  us  have  a  reel  this 
evening  ]" 

u  Oh !  yes,"  she  said,  and  going  into  the  kitchen,  the  message 
was  dispatched  immediately.  As  soon  as  the  guests  arrived,  Peter 
produced  his  violin,  and  the  Doctor  waking  out  of  one  of  his 
brown  studies,  jumped  up  like  a  boy,  and  taking  one  of  the  new 
comers  by  the  hand,  commenced  a  most  joyous  and  rapid  jig,  the 
triumph  of  which  seemed  to  consist  in  who  shouM  tire  the  other  out. 
The  girl  had  youth  and  agility  on  her  side;  but  the  Doctor  was 
not  devoid  of  activity,  and  the  great  training  which  his  constant 
exercise  kept  him  in,  threw  the  balance  in  his  favor;  so,  when  he 
ceased,  and  declared  the  other  victorious,  it  was  evident  that  it  was 
an  act  of  grace,  and  not  of  necessity.  After  that  we  all  joined  in 
an  eight-handed  reel,  and  eight  merrier  and  happier  people,  1  don't 
think,  were  ever  before  assembled  at  Ship  Harbor. 

in  the  midst  of  it  the  door  opened,  and  a  tall,  thin,  cadaverous- 
looking  man  entered,  and  stood  contemplating  us  in  silence.  He 
had  a  bilious-looking  countenance,  which  the  strong  light  of  the  fire 
and  candles,  when  thrown  upon  it,  rendered  still  more  repulsive. 
He  had  a  broad-brimmed  hat  on  his  head,  whk-h  he  did  not  conde- 
scend to  remove,  and  carried  in  one  band  a  leather  travelling  bag, 
as  lean  and  as  dark-complexioned  as  himself,  and  in  the  other  a 
bund.e  of  temperance  newspapers.  Peter,  seeing  that  he  did  not 
speak  or  advance,  chilled  out  to  him,  with  a  face  beaming  with  good 
humor,  as  he  kept  bobbing  his  head,  and  keeping  time  with  his  foot, 
(for  his  whole  body  was  affected  by  his  own  music,) 

"  Come  in,  friend,  come  in,  she  is  welcome.  Come  in,  she  is 
play  in'  herself  just  now,  but  she  will  talk  to  you  presently."  And 
then  he  stamped  his  foot  to  give  emphasis  to  the  turn  of  the  tune, 
as  if  he  wanted  to  astonish  the  stranger  with  his  performance. 

The  latter,  however,  not  only  seemed  perfectly  insensible  to  :ts 
charms,  but  immovable.  Peter  at  tost  got  up  from  his  chair,  a  id 


100  FIDDLING     AND     DANCINO 

continued  playing  as  he  advanced  towards  him  ;  but  he  was  so  ex- 
cited  by  what  was  going  on  among  the  young  people,  that  he 
couldn't  resist  dancing  himself,  as  ho  proceeded  down  the  room, 
and  when  he  got  to  him,  capered  and  fiddled  at  the  same  time. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  as  he  jumped  about  in  front  of  him.  "  come  and 
join  in,"  and  liftin'  the  end  of  his  bow  suddenly,  tipt  off  his  hat  for 
him,  and  said,  "come,  she  will  dance  with  you  herself." 

The  stranger  deliberately  laid  down  his  travelling  bag  and  paper 
parcel,  and  lifting  up  both  hands,  said,  "  Satan,  avaunt."  But  Pe- 
ter  misunderstood  him,  and  thought  he  said,  ''Sartain,  I  can't." 

"  She  canna  do  tat,"  he  replied,  ''can't  she  then,  she'll  teach  you 
the  step,  herself.  This  is  the  way,"  and  his  feet  approached  so  near 
the  solemncolly  man  that  he  retreated  a  step  or  two  as  if  to  pro- 
tect  his  shins.  Everybody  in  the  room  was  convulsed  with  laugh- 
ter, for  all  saw  what  the  intruder  was,  and  the  singular  mistake 
Peter  was  making.  It  broke  up  the  reel.  The  Doctor  put  his 
hands  to  his  sides,  bent  forward,  and  made  the  most  comical  con- 
tortions of  face.  In  this  position  he  shuffled  across  the  room,  and 
actually  roared  out  with  laughter. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  scene  ;  I  have  made  a  sketch  of  it,  to 
illustrate  this  for  you.  There  was  this  demure  sinner,  standing 
bolt  upright  in  front  of  the  door,  his  hat  hanging  on  the  handle, 
which  had  arrested  it  in  its  fall,  and  his  long  black  hair,  as  if  par- 
taking of  his  consternation,  flowing  wildly  over  his  cheeks  ;  while 
Peter,  utterly  unconscious  that  no  one  was  dancing,  continued  play 
ing  and  capering  in  front  of  him,  as  if  he  was  ravin'  distracted,  and 
the  Doctor  bent  forward,  pressing  his  sides  with  his  hands,  as  if  to 
prevent  their  bursting,  laughed  as  if  he  was  in  hysterics.  It  was 
the  most  comical  thing  I  ever  saw.  I  couldn't  resist  it  no  longer, 
so  I  joined  the  trio. 

"  Come.  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  a  three-handed  reel,"  and  entering  into 
the  joke,  he  seized  the  stranger  by  one  hand,  and  I  by  the  other, 
and  before  our  silent  friend  knew  where  he  was,  he  was  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  and  though  he  was  not -made  to  dance,  he  was 
pushed  or  flung  into  his  place,  and  turned  and  faced  about  as  if  he 
was  taking  his  first  lesson.  At  last,  as  if  by  common  consent,  we 
nil  ceased  laughing,  from  sheer  exhaustion.  The  stranger  still 
kept  his  position  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  and  when  silence  was 
restored,  raised  his  hands  again  in  pious  horror,  and  said,  in  a 
deep,  sepulchral  voice  : 

"  Fiddliny,  at  d  dancing,  and  serving  the  devil!  Do  you  evei 
think  of  your  latter  end  ]" 

•'  Thee  had  better  think  of  thine,  friend,"  I  whispered,  assuming 
the  manner  of  a  quaker  for  fun,  •'  for  Peter  is  a  rough  customer, 
and  won't  stand  upon  ceremony." 

"  Amhic  <7»  wbhistei-.  (son  *..f  the  devil,)"  said  Peter,  shaking 


AND     SERVING     THE     DEVIL.  101 

his  nst  at  him,  "  if  she  don't  like  it,  she  had  better  go.  It's  her 
own  house,  and  she  will  do  what  she  likes  in  it.  Faat  does  sho 
want  ?" 

"  I  want  the  man  called  Samuel  Slick,"  said  he. 

'•  Yi-rily,"  sais  I,  "friend,  1  am  that  man,  and  wilt  thee  tell  me 
who  thee  is  that  wantest  me,  and  where  thee  livestl" 

"  Men  call  me,"  he  said,  "Jehu  Judd,  and  when  to  home,  I  live 
in  Quaco  in  New  Brunswick." 

I  was  glad  of  that,  because  it  warn't  possible  the  critter  could 
know  anything  of  me,  and  I  wanted  to  draw  him  out 

"  And  what  does  thee  want,  friend  ?"  1  said. 

"  I  come  to  trade  with  you,  to  sell  you  fifty  barrels  of  mackerel, 
and  to  procure  some  nets  for  the  fishery,  and  some  manufactures, 
commonly  called  domestics." 

"  Verily,"  sais  I,  "  thee  hast  an  odd  way  of  opening  a  trade,  me- 
thinks,  friend  Judd.  Shaking  quakers  dance  piously,  as  thee 
may est  have  heard,  and  dost  thee  think  thy  conduct  seemly  ? 
"What  ma\est  thee  be,  friend?" 

"  A.trader,"  he  replied. 

'•  Art  thee  not  a  fisher  of  men,  friend,  as  well  as  a  fisher  of 
fish  ?" 

'•  1  am  a  Christian  man,"  he  said,  "  of  the  sect  called  '  Come- 
oi/ttm,'1*  and  have  had  experience,  and  when  1  meet  the  brethren, 
sometimes  J  sp^ak  a  word  in  season." 

'•  Well,  friend,  thro  has  spoken  thy  words  out  of  season  to- 
night," 1  said. 

"Perad venture  1  was  wrong,"  he  replied,  "and  if  so,  I  repent 
me  of  it." 

"  Of  a  certainty  thee  was,  friend.  Thee  sayest  thy  name  is 
Jehu  ;  now  he  was  a  hard  rider,  and  it  may  be  thee  drivest  a  hard 
bargain — if  so,  go  thy  ways,  for  thee  cannot  'make  seed-corn  offol 
me;'  if  nut,  tarry  here  till  this  company  goeth,  and  then  I  will 
talk  to  thee  touching  the  thing  called  mackarel.  Wilt  thee  sit  by 
the  fire  till  the  Quaker  ceaseth  his  dancing,  and  perhaps  thee  may 
learn  what  those  words  mean  :  'and  the  heart  danceth  for  joy,'  or 
it  may  be  thee  will  return  to  thy  vessel,  and  trade  in  the  morning." 

"  No  man  knoweth,"  he  said,  "  what  an  hour  may  bring  forth ; 
I  will  bide,  my  time." 

*  Gome-outers.  This  name  has  been  applied  to  a  considerable  number  of 
persons  in  various  parts  of  the  Northern  States,  principally  in  New  England, 
who  have  recently  cmne  out  of  the  various  religious  denominations  with  which 
they  have  been  connected ;  hence  the  name.  They  have  not  themselves 
assumed  any  distinctive  organization.  They  have  no  creed,  believing  that 
every  one  should  be  left  free  to  hold  such  opinions  on  religious  subjects  as  lie 
{•leases,  without  being  held  accountable  for  the  same  to  any  human  authority.— 
f!a.rt?ftt'* 


1Q2  FIDDLING     AND     DANCING 

"The  night  is  cold  at  thifc  season,"  said  Peter,  who  considered 
that  the  laws  of  hospitality  required  him  to  offer  the  best  he  had 
in  his  house  to  a  stranger,  so  he  produced  some  spirits,  as  the  most 
acceptable  thing  he  possessed,  and  requested  him  to  help  himself. 

"  1  care  not  if  1  do,"  he  sa;d,  "for  my  pledge  extendeth  not  so 
far  as  this,"  and  he  poured  himself  out  a  tumbler  of  brandy  and 
water,  that  warn't  half-and-half,  but  almost  the  whole  hog.  On, 
gummy,  what  a  horn!  it  was  strong  enough  almost  to  throw  an 
ox  over  a  five  bar  gate.  It  made  his  eyes  twinkle,  I  tell  you,  and 
he  sat  down  and  began  to  look  as  if  he  thought  the  galls  pretty. 

"  Come,  Peter,"  said  I,  "  strike  up,  the  stranger  will  wait  awhile." 

«  Will  she  dance,"  said  he,  "  tain  her." 

"  No,"  said  1,  but  I  whispered  to  the  Doctor,  t;  he  will  reel  soon," 
at  which  he  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast  and  performed  his 
gyrations  as  before.  Meanwhile  Cutler  and  Fruser,  and  two  ol 
the  girls,  commenced  dancing  jigs,  and  harmony  was  once  more 
restored.  While  they  were  thus  occupied,  I  talked  over  the 
arrangements  for  our  excursion  on  the  morrow  with  Jessie,  and 
the  Doctor  entered  into  a  close  examination  of  Jehu  Judd,  as  to 
the  new  asphalt  mines  in  his  province.  He  informed  him  of  the 
enormous  petrified  trunks  of  palm-trees  that  have  been  found  while 
exploring  the  coal-fields,  and  warmed  into  eloquence  as  he  enu- 
merated the  mineral  wealth  and  great  resources  of  that  most 
beautiful  colony.  The  Doctor  expressed  himself  delighted  with 
the  information  he  had  received,  whereupon  Jehu  rose  and  asked 
him  in  token  of  amity  to  pledge  him  in  a  glass  of  Peter's  excellent 
cognac,  and,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  filled  a  tumbler  and 
swallowed  it  at  one  gulp. 

My,  what  a  pull  that  was!  Thinks  I  to  myself,  "  Friend,  if 
that  don't  take  the  wrinkles  out  of  the  parchment-case  of  your 
conscience,  then  I  don't  know  nothin',  that's  all."  Oh,  dear,  how 
all  America  is  overrun  with  such  cattle  as  this ;  how  few  teach 
religion,  or  practice  it  right.  How  hard  it  is  to  find  the  genuine 
article.  Some  folks  keep  the  people  in  ignorance,  and  make  them 
believe  the  moon  is  made  of  green  cheese,  others  with  as  much 
sense,  fancy  the  world  is.  One  has  old  saints,  the  other  invents 
new  ones.  One  places  miracles  at  a  distance,  'tother  makes  them 
before  their  eyes,  while  both  are  up  to  mesmerism.  One  savs 
there  is  no  marry  in'  in  Paradise;  the  other  says,  if  that's  true,  it's 
hard,  and  it  is  best  to  be  a  mormon  and  to  have  polygamy  here. 
Then  there  is  a  third  party  who  says,  neither  of  you  speak  sense, 
it  is  better  to  believe  nothin'  than  to  give  yourself  up  to  be 
crammed.  Religion,  Squire,  ain't  natur,  because  it  is  intended  to 
improve  corrupt  natur  ;  it's  no  use  talkin,  therefore,  it  can't  be  left 
to  itself,  otherwise  it  degenerates  into  something  little  better  than 
animal  instinct.  It  must  be  taught,  and  teaching  must  have 


AND     SERVING     THE     DEVIL.  103 

authority  as  well  as  learning.  There  can  be  no  authority  where 
there  is  no  power  to  enforce,  and  there  can  be  no  learning  where 
there  is  no  training.  If  tin-re  must  be  normal  schools  to  qualify 
schoolmasters,  there  must  be  Oxfords  and  Cambridge!  to  qualify 
clergymen.  At  least  that's  my  idea.  Well,  if  there  is  a  qualified 
man,  he  must  be  supported  while  he  is  working.  But  if  he  has  to 
please,  his  earthly  employer,  instead  of  obeying  his  heavenly  mas- 
ter, the  better  he  is  qualified  the  more  dangerous  he  is.  If  he 
relies  on  his  congregation,  the  order  of  things  is  turned  upside 
down.  lie  serves  mammon,  and  not  God.  If  he  does  his  duty 
he  must  tell  unpleasant  truths,  and  then  he  gets  a  walkin'  ticket. 
Who  will  hire  a  servant,  pa\  him  for  his  time,  find  a  house  for 
him  to  live  in,  and  provide  him  in  board,  if  he  has  a  will  of  his 
own,  and  won't  please  his  employer  by  doiiv  what  he  is  ordered 
to  do  ?  I  don't  think  you  would,  Squire,  and  I  know  I  wouldn't. 

No,  a  fixed,  settled  church,  like  our'n,  or  yours,  Squire,  is  the 
best.  There  is  safe  anchorage-ground  in  them,  and  you  don't  go 
draggin'  your  flukes  with  every  spurt  of  wind,  or  get  wrecked  if 
then-  is  a  gale  that  rages  round  you.  There  is  something  strong 
to  hold  on  to.  There  are  good  Imoys,  known  landmarks,  and  fixed 
light-houses,  so  that,  you  know  how  to  steer,  and  not  helter  skelter 
lights  movin'  on  the  shore  like  will-o'-the-whisp*,  or  wreckers'  false 
fires,  that  just  lead  you  to  destruction.  The  medium  between  the 
two  churches,  for  the  clergy  would  be  the  right  thing.  In  yours 
they  are  too  independent  of  the  people,  with  us  a  little  too  depend- 
ent. But  we  are  coming  up  to  the  notch  by  making  moderate 
endowments,  w'lich  will  enable  the  minister  to  do  what  is  right, 
and  not  too  large  to  make  him  lazy  or  careless.  Well  then,  in 
neither  of  them  is  a  minister  handed  over  to  a  faction  to  try. 
Them  that  make  the  charges  ain't  the  judges,  which  is  a  Magna 
Chart  a  for  him. 

V- •*,  I  like  our  episcopal  churches — they  teach,  persude,  guide, 
and  paternally  govern,  but  they  have  no  dungeons,  no  tortures,  no 
fire  and  sword.  They  ain't  afraid  of  the  light,  for,  as  minister 
used  to  say,  "  their  light  shines  afore  men."  Just  see  what  sort 
of  a  system  it  must  be  that  produces  such  a  man  as  Jehu  Judd. 
And  yet  Jehu  finds  it  answer  his  purpose  in  his  class  to  be  what  he 
is.  His  religion  is  a  cloak,  and  that  is  a  grand  thing  for  a  pick- 
pocket. It  hides  his  hands,  while  they  are  fumblin'  about  your 
waistcoat  and  trowsers,  and  then  conceals  the  booty.  You  can't 
make  tricks  if  your  adversary  sees  your  hands;  you  may  as  well 
give  up  the  game. 

But  to  return  to  the  evangelical  trader.  Before  we  recommenced 
dancing  again,  I  begged  the  two  Gaelic  girls,  who  were  bouncing, 
liuxoiu  lasses,  and  as  strong  as  Shetland  ponies,  to  coax  or  drag 
him  up  for  a  reel.  Ea~h  took  a  hand  of  his  and  tried  to  persuade 


104  FIDDLING     AND     DANCING 

him  Oh,  weren't  they  full  of  smiles,  and  didn't  they  look  rosy 
and  temptin' !  They  were  sure,  they  said,  so  good-lookiu1  a  man 
as  he  was,  must  have  learned  to  dance,  or  how  could  he  have  given 

it  up  1 

"  For  a  single  man  like  you,"  said  Catherine. 

"  I  am  not  a  single  man?'  said  Old  Piety,  "  I  am  a  widower,  a 
lonelv  man  in  the  house  of  Israel." 

"  Oh,  Catherine,"  sais  I,  a  givin'  her  a  wink,  "  take  care  of  thee- 
self,  or 'thy  Musquodohit  farm,  with  its  hundred  acres  of  intervale 
meadow,  and  seventy  head  of  horned  cattle  is  gone." 

He  took  a  very  amatory  look  at  her  after  that  hint. 

«•  Verilv  she  would  be  a  duck  in  Qitaco,  friend  Jehu,"  said  I. 

"  Indeed  would  she,  anywhere,"  he  said,  looking  sanctified  Cupids 
at  her,  as  pious  galls  do  who  show  you  the  place  in  your  prayer- 
book  at  church. 

"  Ah,  there  is  another  way,  melhinks  she  would  be  a  duck,"  said 
I,  "the  maiden  would  soon  turn  up  the  whites  of  her  eyes  at 
dancin'  like  a  duck  in  thunder,  as  the  profane  men  say." 

"Oh,  oh,"  said  the  Doctor,  who  stood  behind  me,  "I  shall  die, 
he'll  kill  me.  1  can't  stand  this,  oh,  how  my  sides  ache." 

"  Indeed  I  am  afraid  1  shall  always  be  a  wild  duck,'"  said  Cathe- 
rine- 

"  They  are  safer  from  the  fowler,"  said  Jehu,  "  for  they  are 
wary  and  watchful." 

"  If  you  are  a  widower,"  she  said,  "you  ought  to  dance." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so?"  said  he;  but  his  tongue  was  becoming 
thick,  though  his  eyes  were  getting  brighter. 

"  Because,"  she  said,  '•  a  widower  is  an  odd  critter." 

"  Odd  1  "  he  replied,  "  in  what  way  odd,  dear]  " 

"  Why,"  said  the  girl,  "  an  ox  of  our'n  lately  lost  his  mate,  and 
my  brother  called  him  the  odd  ox,  and  not  the  single  ox,  and  he  is 
the  most  frolicksome  fellow  you  ever  sec.  Now,  as  you  have  lost 
your  mate,  you  are  an  odd  one,  and  if  you  are  lookin'  Tor  another 
to  put  its  head  into  the  yoke,  you  ought  to  go  frolickin'  everywhere 
too !  " 

"  Do  single  critters  ever  look  for  mates'? "  said  he  slily. 

"  Well  done,"  said  1,  "  friend  Jehu.  The  drake  had  the  best  of 
the  duck  that  time.  Thee  weren't  bred  at  Quaco  for  nothin. 
Come,  rouse  up,  wake  snakes,  and  walk  chalks,  as  the  thoughtless 
children  of  evil  say.  I  see  thee  is  warmin'  to  the  subject." 

"  Men  do  allow,"  said  he,  lookin'  at  me  with  great  self-compla- 
cency, "  that  in  speech  1  am  peeowerf\i\" 

"Come,  Mary,"  said  1,  addressin'  the  other  sister,  "do  thee  try 
thy  persuasive  powers,  but  take  care  of  thy  grandmother's  legacy 
the  two  thousand  pounds  thee  hast  in  the  Pictou  Bank.  It  is  easier 
for  that  to  go  to  Quaco  than  the  farm." 


AND     BERT  ING     THE     DEVIL.  105 

• 

"  Oh,  never  fear,"  said  she. 

"Providence,"  he  continued,  "has  been  kind  to  these  virgins. 
They  are  surprising  comely,  and  well  endowed  wiih  understanding 
and  money,"  and  he  smirked  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other,  as 
it'  he  thought  either  would  do — the  farm  or  the  legacy. 

u  Come,"  they  both  sa  d,  and  as  they  gave  a  slight  pull,  up  he 
sprung  to  his  feet.  The  temptation  was  too  great  for  him:  two 
pairs  of  bright  eyes,  two  pretty  faces,  and  two  hands  in  his,  filled 
with  Highland  blood — and  that  ain't  cold — and  two  glasses  of  grog 
•within,  and  two  fortunes  without  were  irresistible. 

So  said  he,  "  Jf  1  have  offended,  verily  I  will  make  amends ; 
but  dancing  is  a  dangerous  thing,  and  a  snare  to  the  unwary.  The 
hand  and  waist  of  a  maiden  in  the  dance  lead  not  to  serious 
thoughts."' 

u  It's  because  thee  so  sf  Idom  feels  them,"  I  said.  "  Edged  tools 
never  wound  thee  when  thee  is  used  to  them,  and  the  razor  that 
cutteth  the  child,  passes  smoothly  over  the  chin  of  a  man.  He 
who  locketh  up  his  daughters,  forgetteth  there  is  a  window  and  a 
ladder,  and  if  gaiety  is  shi.t  out  of  the  house,  it  is  pitied  and  admit- 
ted when  the  master  is  absent  or  asleep.  When  it  is  harbored  by 
stealth  and  kept  concealed,  it  loses  its  beauty  and  innocence,  and 
waxeth  wicked.  The  crowd  that  leaveth  a  night-meeting  is  less 
rot  rained  than  the  throng  that  goeth  to  a  lighted  ball-room.  Both 
are  to  be  avoided ;  one  w<«reth  a  cloak  that  conceate  too  much,  the 
other  a  thin  vestment  that  reveals  more  than  is  seemly.  Of  the 
two,  it  is  better  to  court  rbservation  than  shun  it.  Dark  thoughts 
lead  to  dark  deeds." 

"  There  is  much  reas<  n  in  what  you  say,"  he  said  ;  "  I  never 
had  it  put  to  me  in  that  light  before.  1  have  heard  of  the  shakers, 
but  never  saw  one  before  you,  nor  was  aware  that  they  danced." 

"  Did  thee  never  hear,"  said  I,  "  when  thee  was  a  boy, 

44  •  Merrily  dance  the  Quaker's  wife, 
And  mei  rily  dance  the  Quaker  1 " 

and  so  on  ?  " 

"  No,  never,"  said  he. 

"  Then  verily,  friend,  I  will  show  thee  how  a  Quaker  can  dance. 
They  call  us  shakers,  from  shaking  our  feet  so  spry.  Which  wil 
ther  choose — the  farm  or  the  legacy  ?  " 

Mary  took  his  hand,  and  led  him  to  his  place,  the  music  struck 
up,  and  Peter  gave  us  one  of  his  quickest  measures.  Jehu  now 
felt  the  combined  influence  of  music,  women,  brandy  and  dancing, 
and  snapped  his  fingers  over  his  head,  and  stamped  his  feet  to  mark 
the  time,  and  hummed  the  tune  in  a  voice  that  from  its  power  and 
clearness  astonished  us  al'. 

"Well  done,  old  boy,"  said  I,  for  I  thought  I  rnigH  drop  thf 
5* 


106  FIDDLING     AND     DANCINO. 

quakt-r  now,  "  well  done,  old  boy,"  and  I  slapped  him  on  the  bark, 
"go  it  while  you  are  young,  make  up  for  lost  time:  now  f.t 
the  double  shuffle.  Dod  rot 'it,  you  are  clear  grit  and  no  mistake 
You  are  like  a  critter  that  boggles  in  the  collar  at  the  first  go  off, 
and  don't  like  the  start,  but  when  you  do  lay  legs  to  it  you  cer- 
tainly ain't  no  slouch,  1  know." 

The  way  he  cuts  carlicnes,  ain't  no  matter.  From  humming  he 
soon  got  to  a  full  cry,  and  from  that  to  shouting.  His  antics  over- 
came us  all.  The  Doctor  gave  the  first  key  note.  "  Oh,  ob,  that 
man  will  be  the  death  of  me,"  and  again  rubbed  himself  round  the 
wall,  in  convulsions  of  laughter.  Peter  saw  nothing  absurd  in  all 
this,  on  the  contrary,  he  w;is  delighted  with  the  stranger. 

"  Oigh,"  he  said,  "  ta  preacher  is  a  goot  feller  after  all,  she  will 
tance  with  her  hern  ainsel,"  and  fiddling  his  way  up  to  him  again, 
he  danced  a  jig  with  Jehu,  to  the  infinite  amusement  of  us  all.  The 
familiarity  which  Mr.  Judd  exhibited  with  the  sti-ps  and  the  dunce, 
convinced  me  that  he  must  have  often  indulged  in  it  before  he 
became  a  Christian.  At  last  he  sat  down,  not  a  little  exhausted 
with  the  violent  exertion,  but  the  liquor  made  him  peeowerful 
thick-legged,  and  his  track  warnt  a  bee  line,  1  tell  you.  After 
a  while  a  song  was  proposed,  and  Mary  entreated  him  to  favor  us 
with  one. 

"  Dear  Miss,"  said  he,  "pretty  Miss,"  and  his  mouth  resembled 
that  of  a  cat  contemplating  a  pan  of  milk  that  it  cannot  reach, 
"lovely  maiden,  willingly  would  I  comply,  if  Sail  Mody  (Psal- 
mody) will  do,  but  I  h;ive  forgotten  my  songs." 

"Try  this,"  said  1,  and  his  strong,  clear  voice  rose  above  us  all, 
as  he  joined  us  in 

"  Yes,  Lucy  is  a  pretty  girl, 
Such  lubly  hands  and  feet, 
When  her  toe  is  in  the  Market-house, 
Her  heel  is  in  Main  Street. 

"  Oh,  take  your  time.  Miss  Lucy, 
Miss  Lucy,  Lucy  Long, 
Rock  de  cradle,  Lucy, 
And  listen  to  de  song." 

He  complained  of  thirst  and  fatigue  after  this,  and  rising,  said, 
"  I  am  peeowerfu]  dry.  by  jinks,"  and  helped  himself  so  liberally, 
that  he  had  scarcely  resumed  his  seat  before  he  was  fast  asleep,  and 
so  incapable  of  sustaining  himsilf  in  a  sitting  posture,  that  we 
removed  him  to  the  sofa,  and  loosening  his  cravat,  placed  him  in  a 
situation  where  he  could  repose  comfortably.  We  then  all  stood 
round  tta  evangelical  "  come  outer?'  and  sang  in  chorus: 


8TITCHIXG     A     BUTTON-HOLE.  107 

"  My  old  master,  Tw  iddledum  Don, 
Went  to  bed  with  his  trousers  on, 
One  shoe  off,  and  the  other  shoe  on — 
That's  a  description  of  Twiddledum  Don." 

"Oh,  my  old  '  Come-outer,'  said  F,  as  I  took  my  last  look  at  him 
for  the  night,  "yon  have  'come-out'  in  your  true  colors  at  last,  but 
this  comes  of  '  fiddling  and  dancing,  and  nerving  the  devil.1 " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
STITCHING   A   BUTTON-HOLE. 

AFTER  the  family  had  retired  to  rest,  the  Doctor  and  I  lighted 
our  cigars,  and  discoursed  of  the  events  of  the  evening. 

"Such  men,  as  Jehu  Judd,"  he  said,  "do  a  monstrous  deal  of 
mischief  in  the  country.  By  making  the  profession  of  piety  a 
cloak  for  their  knavery,  they  injure  the  cause  of  morality,  and  pre- 
dispose men  to  ridicule  the  very  appearance  of  that  which  is  so 
justly  entitled  to  their  respect,  a  sober,  righteous,  and  godly  life. 
Men  lose  their  abhorrence  of  fraud  in  their  distrust  of  the  efficacy 
of  religion.  It  is  a  duty  we  owe  to  society  to  expose  and  punish 
such  fellows." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  do  my  duty,"  said  I,  laughing,  "he  has  fired 
into  the  wrong  flock  this  time,  I'll  teach  him  not  to  do  it  again  or 
my  name  is  not  Sam  Slick.  1  will  make  that  goney  a  caution  to 
sinners  /  know.  He  has  often  deceived  others  so  that  they  didn't 
know  him.  I  will  now  alter  him  so  he  shan't  know  himself  when  he 
wakes  up." 

Proceeding  to  my  bed-room,  which,  as  I  said  before,  adjoined 
the  parlor,  1  brought  out  the  box  containing  my  sketchin'  fixins,  and 
opening  of  a  secret  drawer,  shewed  him  a  small  paper  of  bronze 
colored  powder. 

"  That,"  said  I,  "  is  what  the  Indians  at  the  Nor-west  use  to  dis- 
guise a  white  man,  when  he  is  in  their  train,  not  to  deceive  their 
enemies,  for  you  couldn't  take  in  a  savage  for  any  length  of  time, 
no  how  you  could  fix  it,  but  that  his  pale  face  might  not  alarm  the 
scouts  of  their  foes.  I  was  stained  that  way  for  a  month,  when  I 
was  among  them,  for  there  was  war  going  on  at  the  time." 

Mixing  a  little  of  it  with  brandy,  I  wnnt  to  the  sofa  where  Mr. 
Jehu  Judd  was  laid  out,  and  with  a  camel's  hair  brush  ornamented 
his  Upper  lip  with  two  enormous  and  ferocious  moustoichios,  curling 
well  upwards,  across  his  cheeks,  to  his  ears,  and  laid  on  the  paint 


108  STITCHING     A     BUTTCN-HOLK. 

in  a  manner  to  resist  the  utmost  efforts  <  f  soap  and  water.  Eacl 
eye  was  adorned  with  an  enormous  circle,  to  represent  the  effect  of 
blows,  and  on  his  forehead  was  written  in  this  indelible  ink  in  largf 
print  letters,  like  those  on  the  starn-boa-'d  of  a  vessel,  the  words, 
"Jehu  of  Quaco." 

In  the  morning  we  made  preparations  for  visiting  the  Bntcheloi 
Beaver.  The  evangelical  trader  awoke  amid  the  general  bustle  of 
the  house,  and  sought  me  out  to  talk  ove  •  the  sale  of  his  mackarel. 

"  Fa  is  tat,"  said  Peter,  who  first  stared  wildly  at  him,  and  then 
put  himself  in  a  posture  of  defence.  "  I  *  she  a  deserter  from  the 
gaiishon  of  Halifax?" 

"  1  am  a  man  of  peace,"  said  Jehu,  (who  appeared  to  have  for- 
gotten the  aberrations  of  the  last  evening,  and  had  resumed  his 
usual  sanctimoniouslyfied  manner.)  "Swear  not,  friend,  it  is  an 
abomination,  and  becometh  not  a  Christian  man." 

Peter  was  amazed,  he  could  not  trust  his  eyes,  his  ears,  or  h'3 
memory. 

"Toctor,"  said  he,  "  come  here  fur  heaven's  sake,  is  she  hernain- 
sel  or  ta  tevil." 

The  moment  the  Doctor  saw  him,  his  hands  as  usual  involunta- 
rily protected  his  sides,  and  he  burst  out  i  laughing  in  his  face,  and 
then  describing  a  circle  on  the  grass,  fell  down,  and  rolled  over, 
saying;  "Oh,  oh,  that  man  will  be  the  Jeath  of  me."  The  girls 
nearly  went  into  hysterics,  and  Cutler,  though  evidently  not  approv- 
ing of  the  practical  joke,  as  only  fit  f»r  n  ilitary  life,  unab'e  to  con- 
tain himself,  walked  away.  The  French  boy,  Etienne,  frightened 
at  his  horrible  expression  of  face,  retr  ated  backwards,  crossed 
himself  most  devoutly,  and  muttered  an  Ave  Maria. 

"  Friend  Judd,"  said  I,  for  1  was  the  only  one  who  retained  my 
gravity,  "  thee  ought  not  to  wear  a  ma*k  it  is  a  bad  sign." 

"I  wear  no  ma.-k,  Air.  Slick."  he  said,  "  I  use  no  disguises,  and 
it  does  not  become  a  professing  man  1'ke  you,  to  jeer  and  scoff 
because  1  reprove  the  man  Peter  for  his  profaneness." 

Peter  stamped  and  raved  like  a  madr.an,  and  had  to  resort  to 
Gaelic  to  disburden  his  mind  of  his  effervescence.  He  threatened 
to  shoot  him,  he  knew  him  very  well,  he  said,  for  he  had  seen  him 
before  on  the  prairies.  He  was  a  Kentucky  villain,  a  forger,  a 
tief,  a  Yankee  spy,  sent  to  excite  the  Indians  against  the  English. 
lie  knew  his  false  moustachios.  he  wou'd  swear  to  them  in  any 
court  of  jn  .t  ce  in  the  world.  "Dei]  a  bit  is  ta  Loon,  Jehu  Judd,* 
he  said,  '•  her  name  is  prayin'  Joe,  the  he  rse-stealer." 

For  the  truth  <-f  this  charge  he  appealed  to  his  daughters,  who 
stood  aghast  at  the  feuiful  resemblance  1  is  moustachies  had  given 
him  to  that  noted  borderer. 

"That  man,  of  Satan,"  said  Jehu,  locking  very  uncomfortable,  as 
he  saw  Peter  flourishing  a  short  dirk,  and  the  Doctor  holding  him 


8  T  I  T  C  H  1  N  G      A      B  C   I  T  O  X  -  II  O  L  H  .  109 

back  and  remonstratii.g  with  him.  ''That  man  of  Satan  I  never 
saw  before  yesterday,  when  I  entered  his  house,  where  there  was 
jiddliny  and  dancing,  and  scrviny  the  devil.  Truly  my  head  became 
dizzy  at  the  sight,  my  heart  sunk  within  me  at  beholding  such 
wickedness,  and  1  fell  into  a  swoon,  and  was  troubled  with  dreams 
of  the  evil  one  all  night." 

"Then  he  visited  thee,  friend,"  I  said,  "  in  thy  sleep,  and  placed 
his  mark  upon  thee— the  mark  of  the  beast,  come  and  look  at  it  in 
the  glass." 

When  he  saw  himself,  he  started  back  in  great  terror,  and  gave 
vent  to  a  long,  low,  guttural  groan,  like  a  man  who  is  suffering 
intense  agony.  "What  in  the  world  is  all  this]"  he  said.  He 
again  approached  the  glass  and  again  retreated  with  a  look  of 
unspeakable  despair,  groaning  like  a  thousand  sinners,  and  swelled 
out  about  the  head  and  throat  like  a  startled  blauzer-snake.  After 
wliich  he  put  his  hand  on  his  lip  and  discovered  there  was  no  hair. 
lie  then  took  courage  and  advanced  once  more,  and  examined  it 
carefully,  and  rubl>ed  it,  but  it  did  not  remove  it. 

"  He  has  burned  it  into  the  skin,"  I  said,  "he  hath  made  thee 
the  image  of  the  horse-steal er,  and  who  knoweth  whom  else  thou 
resembtest.  Thee  art  a  marked  man  verily.  Thee  said  thee  uever 
used  disguises." 

11  Never,"  he  said,  "  never,  Mr.  Slick." 

"  Hush,"  1  said,  "  thee  hast  worn  three  disguises.  First  thee 
wore  the  disguise  of  religion;  secondly,  thee  were  disguised  in 
liquor  ;  and  thirdly,  thee  art  now  disguised  with  what  fighting  men 
call  the  moustachio." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  leaving  off  his  cant,  and  really  looking 
like  a  different  man,  "  dod  drot  it,  it  is  a  just  punishment.  I 
knock  under,  1  holler,  I  give  in,  have  mercy  on  me.  Can  you  rid 
me  of  this  horrid  mark,  for  1  can't  flunk  out  in  the  street  in  this 
rig." 

"  1  can,"  sais  I,  "  but  I  will  do  it  on  one  condition  only,  and  that 
js,  that  you  give  over  canting  that  way,  and  coverin'  tricks  with 
long  faces,  and  things  too  serious  to  mention  now,  for  that  is 
doubly  wicked.  Cheatin' ain't  pretty  at  no  time,  tliough  1  wouldn't 
be  too  haid  on  a  man  for  only  gettin'  hold  of  the  right  eend  of  the 
rope  in  a  bargain.  I  have  done  it  myself.  Or  puttin'  the  leak 
into  a  consaited  critter  sometimes  for  fun.  But  to  cheat,  and  cant 
to  help  you  a  doin'  of  it,  is  horrid,  that's  a  fact.  It's  the  very 
devil.  Will  you  promise,  if  1  take  down  that  ornamental  sign- 
board, that  you  will  give  up  that  kind  o'  business  and  set  up  a 
new  shop  ?  " 

"  I  will,"'  said  he,  "  upon  my-  soul — I'll  be  d — d  if  I  don't.  That 
ain't  cant  now,  is  it?" 

"  Well,  now  you  never  sau1  a  truer  word,"  said  I,  "  you  will  be 


HO  STITCHING      A     D  U  T  T  O  X  -MOLE. 

d — d  if  you  don't,  that's  a  fact.  But  there  is  no  use  (o  run  to 
the  other  extreme,  neither." 

•'  Are  you  a  preacher  ?  "  said  he,  and  1  thought  he  gave  me  a 
sly  look  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  how 
good  we  are,  ain't  we,"  as  sin  said  when  the  devil  was  rebukin'  of 
him.  The  fact  is,  the  fellow  was  a  thunderin'  knave,  but  he  was 
no  fool,  further  than  being  silly  enough  to  be  a  knave. 

"  No;"  sais  I,  "  I  ain't,  I  scorn  a  man  dubbin'  himself  preacher, 
without  the  broughtens  up  to  it,  and  a  lawful  warrant  for  being 
one.  And  I  scorn  cant,  it  ain't  necessary  to  trade.  If  you  want 
that  proved  to  you,  -"ait  till  1  return  to-morrow,  and  if  you  get  to 
winderd  of  me  in  a  Bargain,  I'll  give  you  leave  to  put  the  musta- 
chios  on  me,  that's  a  fact.  My  maxim  is  to  buy  as  low,  and  sell 
as  high  as  I  can,  provided  the  article  will  bear  a  large  profit.  If 
not,  1  take  a  moderate  advance,  turn  the  penny  quick,  and  at  it 
again.  I  will  compound  something  that  will  take  out  your  false 
hair,  for  I  don't  think  it  will  be  easy  to  shave  it  off.  It  all  came 
of  pretence.  What  in  the  world  was  the  reason  you  couldn't  walk 
quietly  into  the  cantecoi,  where  people  were  enjoying  themselves, 
and  either  join  them,  or  if  you  had  scruples,  keep  them  to  yourself 
and  sit  by.  Nobody  would  have  molested  you.  Nothing  but 
cant  led  you  to  join  temperance  societies.  A  man  ought  to  be 
able  to  use,  not  abuse  liquor,  but  the  moment  you  obligate  your- 
self not  to  touch  it,  it  kinder  sets  you  a  hankering  after  it,  and  if 
you  taste  it  after  that,  it  upsets  you,  as  it  did  last  night.  It  ain't 
easy  toioean  a  cu If  that  lakes  to  suckhi1  the  second  time,  (Jtc^s  a  fact. 
Your  pretence  set  folks  agin'  you.  They  didn't  half  hke  the 
interruption  for  one  thing,  and  then  the  way  you  acted  made  them 
disrespect  you.  So  you  got  a  most  an  all-fired  trick  played  on 
you.  And  I  must  say  it  sai ves  you  right.  Now,  sais  I,  go  on 
board  and — " 

'•Oh,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "oh  now,  that's  a  good  fellow,  ion't 
send  me  on  board,  such  a  figure  as  this,  I'd  rather  die  fust,  I'd 
never  hear  the  last  of  it.  The  men  would  make  me  the  laughing 
stock  of  Quaco.  Oh,  I  can't  go  on  board." 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "go  to  bed  then,  and  put  a  poultice  on  vour 
face,  to  soften  the  skin."  That  warn't  necessary  at  all,  but  f  said 
it  to  punish  him.  "  And  when  1  come  back,  1  will  give  you  a 
wash,  that  will  make  your  face  as  white  and  as  smooth  as  a 
baby's." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  couldn't  you—"  but  I  turned  away, 
and  didn't  hear  him  out. 

By  the  time  1  had  done  with  him,  we  were  all  ready  to  start 
f'-r  the  Bachelor  Beaver.  Peter  borrowed  an  extra  hor.-e  and 
waggon,  and  drove  his  youngest  daughter.  Cutler  drove  Jessie  in 
another,,  and  the  Doctor  and  1  walked. 


STITCHING      A      BUT      ON-HOI.K.  Ill 

"  We  can  travel  as  fast  as  they  can,"  he  said,  "  for  pait  of  the 
road  is  full  of  stumps,  and  very  rough,  and  I  like  the  arrangement, 
and  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you  about  all  sorts  of  things." 

After  travelling  about  two  miles,  we  struck  off  the  main  high- 
way, into  a  wood-road,  in  which  stones,  hillocks,  and  roots  of  trees, 
io  impeded  the  waggons,  that  we  passed  them,  and  took  the  lead. 

u  Are  you  charged  ?"  said  the  Doctor,  "  if  not,  I  think  we  may 
as  well  do  so  now." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  advisable,"  said  I.  "  But  where  is  vour 
gun?" 

"I  generally  am  so  well  loaded,"  he  replied,  "  when  I  go  to  the 
woods,  I  find  it  an  incumbrance.  In  addition  to  my  other  traps,  I 
find  forty  weight  of  pemican  as  much  as  I  can  carry." 

"  Pemican"1*  sais  J,  "  what  in  natur  is  that  ?"  I  knew  as  well  as 
he  did  what  it  was,  for  a  man  that  don't  understand  how  to  make 
that,  don't  know  the  very  abeselfa  of  wood-craft.  But  1  tell  you 
what,  Squire,  unless  you  want  to  be  hated,  don't  let  on  you  know 
a;l  that  a  feller  can  tell  you.  The  more  you  do  know,  the  more 
folks  are  afcarcd  to  be  able  to  tell  you  something  new.  It  flatters 
their  vanity,  and  it's  a  harmless  piece  of  politeness,  as  well  as  good 
pulley  to  listen  ;  for  who  the  plague  will  attend  to  3011,  if  you 
won't  condescend  to  hear  them  ?  Conversation  is  a  barter,  in 
tohi'-h  one  thing  is  swapped  for  another,  and  you  must  ab  de  by  the 
laws  of  trode.  What  you  give,  costs  you  nothing;  and  what  you 
get,  may  be  worth  nothing  ;  so,  if  you  don't  gain  much,  you  don't 
i"si-.  at  all  events.  '"So,"  sais  1,  "  what  in  natur  is  pemican  ?" 

••  \Vliy,"  sais  he,  "  it  is  formed  by  pounding  the  choice  parts  of 
veni-ion  or  other  meat  very  small,  dried  over  a  slack  fire,  or  by  the 
frost,  and  put  into  bags,  made  of  the  skin  of  the  slain  animal,  into 
\\hich  a  portion  of  melted  fat  is  poured.  The  whole  being  then 
strongly  pressed,  and  sewed  up  in  bag",  constitutes  the  brst,  and 
most  portable  food  known ;  and  one  which  will  keep  a  great 
h'ii<:tli  of  time.  If  a  dainty  man,  like  you,  wishes  to  improve  its 
flavor,  you  may  spice  it." 

'•  What  a  grand  thing  that  would  be  for  soldiers,  during  forced 
marches,  wouldn't  it?  Well,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  that's  a  wrinkle, 
aiat  it  ?  But  who  ever  heard  of  a  colonial  minister  knowing  any- 
think  of  colony  habits  ?" 

"  If  we  have  a  chance  to  kill  a  deer,"  he  said,  "  I  will  show  you 
how  to  make  it,"  and  he  looked  as  j 'leased  to  give  me  that  informa- 
tion, as  if  he  had  invented  it  himself.  "So  1  use  this  instead  of  a 
gun,''  he  continued,  producing  a  long,  thick-barreled  pistol,  of  capi- 
tal workmanship,  and  well  mounted.  "  I  prefer  this,  it  answers 
every  purpose  ;  and  is  easy  to  carry.  There  are  no  wolves  here, 
and  bears  never  attack  you,  unless  molested,  so  that  the  gun-barrel 

*  See  Dunn'«  "  Oregon." 


STITCHING     A     BUTTON  -HOLK. 

is  not  needed  as  a  club  ;  and  if  Bruin  once  gets  a  taste  of  this,  he 
is  in  no  hurry  to  face  it  again.  The  great  thing  is  to  know  how  to 
shoot,  and  where  to  hit.  Now,  it's  no  i  se  to  fire  at  the  head  of  a 
bear,  the  proper  place  to  aim  for  is  the  side,  just  back  of  the  foie 
leg.  Are  you  a  good  shot  T' 

"  Well  "  said  I,  "I  can't  brag,  for  I  have  seen  them  that  could 
beat  me  at  that  game ;  but,  in  a  genera;  way,  I  don't  calculate  to 
throw  away  my  lead.  It's  scarce  in  the  woods.  Suppose,  though, 
we  have  a  trial.  Do  you  see  that  blaze  ai  the  hemlock  tree,  there  ? 
try  it." 

Well,  he  up,  and  as  quick  as  wink  fired,  and  hit  it  directly  in  the 
centre. 

"  Well,"  sais  1,  "  you  scare  me.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  didn't 
expect  to  be  taken  up  that  way.  And  s  »  sure  as  I  boast  of  a  thing, 
J  slip  out  of  the  little  eend  of  the  horn."  Well,  I  drew  a  bead  fine 
on  it,  and  fired. 

'•  That  mark  is  too  small,"  said  he,  (thinking  I  had  missed  it.) 
"and  hardly  plain  enough." 

"  1  shouldn't  wonder  if  1  had  gone  a  one  side  or  the  other,''  said 
I,"  as  we  walked  up  to  it,  "  1  intended  to  send  your  ball  further  in ; 
but  1  guess  I  have  only  turned  it  round.  See,  I  have  cut  a  little 
grain  of  the  bark  off  the  right  side  of  the  circle." 

"  Good,"  said  he,  "  these  balls  are  ne?r  enough  to  give  a  critter 
the  heart-ache,  at  any  rate.  You  are  a  better  shot  than  I  am  ;  and 
that's  what  I  have  never  seen  in  this  province.  Strange,  too,  for 
you  dun't  live  in  the  woods,  as  I  do." 

"That's  the  reason,"  said  1,  "I  shoot  for  practice,  you,  when  you 
require  it.  Use  keeps  your  hand  in,  but  it  wouldn't  do  it  for  me; 
so  I  make  up  by  practising,  whenever  I  can.  \Vhen  I  go  to  the 
woods,  which  aint  as  often  now  as  I  coul  1  wish,  for  they  aint  to  be 
found  everywhere  in  our  great  country,  1  enjoy  it  with  all  my 
heart.  1  enter  into  it  as  keen  as  a  houm.,  and  I  don't  care  to  have 
the  Clockmaker  run  rigs  on.  A  man's  life  often  depends  on  his 
shot,  and  he  ought  to  be  afraid  of  nothir .  Some  men,  too,  are  as 
dangerous  as  wild  beasts  ;  but  if  they  krow  you  can  snuff  a  candle 
with  a  ball,  hand  runnin,  why,  they  are  apt  to  try  their  luck  with 
some  one  else,  that  aint  up  to  snuff,  that's  all.  It's  a  common 
feeling,  that. 

"  The  best  shot  I  ever  knew,  was  a  tailor,  at  Albany.  He  used 
to  be  very  fond  of  brousin'  in  the  forest  sometimes,  and  the  young 
fellows  was  apt  to  have  a  shy  at  Thimble.  They  talked  of  the 
skirts  of  the  forest,  the  ca^es  of  the  Tudson,  laughing  in  their 
sle'eve,  giving  a  fellow  a  bustiii,  having  a  stitch  in  the  side,  cuffing  a 
fellow's  ears,  taking  a  tuck-in  at  lunch,  or  calling  mint-julip  an 
inside  lining,  and  so  on  ;  and  every  time  any  o'  these  words  came 
•-•ut,  they  alt  laughed  like  am  thing. 


STITCHING     A     BUTTON-HOLK.  113 

"  Well,  ihe  critter,  who  was  really  a  capital  fellow,  jsed  to  join 
it  the  laugh  himself,  hut  still  grinnin'  is  no  proof  a  man  enjoys  it; 
for  a  hyena  will  laugh,  if  you  give  him  a  poke.  So  what  does  he 
do,  but  practise  in  secret  every  morning  and  evening  at  pistol- 
shooting,  for  an  hour  or  two,  until  he  was  a  shade  more  than  per- 
fection  itself.  Well,  one  day  he  was  out  with  a  party  of  them 
same  coons,  and  they  began  to  run  the  old  rig  on  him  as  usual. 
And  he  jumps  up  on  eend,  and  in  a  joking  kind  o'  way,  said  : 
'  Gentlest**,  can  any  of  you  xtitch  a  button  hole,  with  the  button  in 
it  V  Well,  they  all  roared  out  at  that  like  mad. 

"  '  No,  Sirra-,'  sais  they,  '  but  come,  show  us,  Thimble,  will  you  1 
that's  a  good  fellow.  Tom,  fetch  the  goose,  to  press  it  when  itv, 
done.  Dick,  cabbage  a  bit  of  cloth  for  him  to  try  it  upon.  Why, 
Tom,  you  are  as  sharp  a*  a  needle.' 

"  '  Well,'  sais  he,  '  I'll  show  you.' 

"  So  he  went  to  a  tree,  and  took  out  of  his  pocket  a  fippenny  bit, 
that  had  a  hole  in  the  centre,  and  putting  in  it  a  small  nail,  which 
he  had  provided,  he  fastened  it  to  the  tree. 

"  Now,'  said  he,  taking  out  a  pair  of  pistols,  and  lots  of  ammu- 
nition, from  the  bottom  of  his  prog-basket,  where  he  had  hid  them. 
'  Now,'  said  he,  '  gentle/«e/<,  the  way  to  stitch  a  button-hole,  is  to 
put  balls  all  round  that  button,  in  a  close  ring,  and  never  disturb 
them  ;  that's  what  we  tailors  call  workmanlike,'  and  he  fired  away, 
shot  after  shot,  till  he  had  done  it. 

"  '  Now,'  said  he,  '  gentle/nc/i,  that  button  has  to  be  fastened,' 
and  he  fired,  and  drove  the  nail  that  it  hung  on,  into  the  tree. 
4  And  now,  gentle/«<v<,'  said  he,  '  J  have  stood  your  shots  for  many 
a  long  day  ;  turn  about  is  fair  play.  The  first  man  that  cracks  a 
joke  at  me,  on  account  of  my  calling,  must  stand  my  shot,  and  if 
[  don't  stitch  his  button-hole  for  him,  1  am  no  tailor ;  that's  all.' 

"  Well,  they  all  cheered  him  -when  he  sat  down,  and  they  drank 
his  ht-altb  ;  and  the  boss  of  the  day  said  :  '  Well,  Street,  (afore  that 
he  used  to  call  him  Thimble,)  well,  Street,'  said  he,  'you  are&man.' 

"  '  There  you  are  again,'  said  Street ;  '  that  is  a  covered  joke  at 
a  tailor  being  only  the  ninth  part  of  one.  1  pass  it  over  this  time, 
but  let's  have  no  more  of  it.' 

"  '  No,  Sim*,  no,'  said  boss  ;  '  on  honor  now,  I  didn't  mean  it. 
And  I  say,  too,  let  there  be  no  more  of  it.' " 

"  Not  a  bad  story  !"  said  the  Doctor.  "  A  man  ought  to  be  able 
to  take  his  own  part  in  the  world  ;  but  my  idea  is,  we  think  too 
much  of  guns.  Do  you  know  anything  of  archery?" 

41  A  little,"  sais  I,  '-at  least  folks  say  so;  but  then  they  really 
give  me  credit  for  what  I  don't  deserve ;  they  say  1  draw  a  thun 
derin  long  bow  sometimes." 

*-Oh!  oh!"  he  said  laughing,  "  posi*u'ely,  as  the  fellow  saM  to 
the  tailor,  you'll  give  me  a  stitch  in  my  side.  Well,  that's  better 


STITCHING      A      BUTTON- HOLE. 

than  being  'sewed  up,'  as  Jehu  was  last  night.     But,  seriously,  dt 
you  ever  use  the  bow  1 

"    "  Well,  I  have  tried  the  South  American  bow,  and  it's  a  power- 
ful weapon  that  ;  but  it  takes  a  man  to  draw  it,  I  tell  you/' 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "it  requires  a  strong  arm;  but  the  exercise  is 
good  for  the  chest.  It's  the  one  I  generally  use.  The  bow  is  a 
great  weapon,  and  the  oldest  in  the  world.  1  believe  1  have  a 
tolerable  collection  of  them.  The  Indian  bow  was  more  or  less  ex- 
c  llent,  according  to  the  wood  they  had  ;  but  they  could  never  have 
been  worth  much  here,  for  the  country  produces  no  suitable  material. 
The  old  English  Jong  bow,  perhaps,  is  a  good  one  ;  but  it  is  not  so 
powerful  as  the  Turkish.  That  has  immense  power.  '1  hey  say  it 
will  carry  an  arrow  from  four  hundred  and  fifty  to  five  hundred 
yards.  Mine,  perhaps,  is  not  a  first-rate  one,  nor  am  I  what  1  call 
a  skilful  archer;  but  I  can  reach  beyond  three  hundred  yards — 
though  that  is  an  immense  distance.  The  gun  has  superseded  them  ; 
but  though  superior  in  many  respects,  the  other  has  some  qualities 
that  are  invaluable.  In  skirmishing,  or  in  surprising  outposts,  »vhat 
an  advantage  it  is  to  avoid  the  alarm  and  noise  occasioned  lr\  fire- 
arms. All  troops  engaged  in  this  service  in  addition  to  the  rifle 
ought  to  have  the  bow  and  the  quiver.  What  an  advantage  it 
would  have  been  in  the  Caflre  war,  and  how  servkvable  now  \n  the 
Crimea.  They  are  light  to  carry  and  quickly  discharged.  \\  hen 
we  get  10  my  house,  1  will  prove  it  to  you.  We  will  set  up  two 
targets,  at  one  hundred  yards,  say.  You  shall  fire  from  one.  to  the 
other,  and  then  stand  aside,  and  before  you  can  reload  I  will  put 
three  arrows  into  yours.  1  should  say  four  to  a  common  soldier's 
practice  ;  but  I  give  even  \  ou  three  to  one.  If  a  man  misses  his 
first  shot  at  me  with  a  gun,  he  is  victimized,  for  I  have  three  chances 
in  return  before  he  <:ets  his  second,  and  if  1  don't  pink  him  with  one 
01- the  other,  why,  I  deserve  to  be  hit.  For  the  same  reason,  what 
a  glorious  cavalry  weapon  it  is,  as  the  Parthians  knew.  What  a 
splendid  thing  for  an  ambush,  where  you  are  neither  seen  nor  heard. 
I  don't  mean  to  say  they  are  better  than  fire-arms;  but,  occasion- 
ally used  with  them  they  would  be  irresistible.  If  1  were  a  British 
officer  in  command  1  would  astonish  the  enemy." 

"  You  would  astonish  the  Horse-Guards,  too,  7  know,"  said  I. 
"  It  would  ruin  you  for  ever.  Thev'd  call  you  old  '  bows  and  arrows,' 
as  they  did  the  general  that  had  no  flints  to  his  guns,  when  he  at- 
tacked Buenos  Ayres  ;  they'd  have  you  up  in  '  Punch  ;'  they'd  draw 
you  as  Cupid  going  to  war;  they'd  nickname  you  a  /.ow-stn-et 
officer.  Oh!  they'd  soon  teach  \  ou  what  a  quiver  was.  The\'d 
play  the  devil  with  you.  They'd  beat  you  at  your  own  game; 
you'd  be  stuck  full  of  poisoned  arrows;  you  could  as  easily  intro- 
duce the  queue  again,  as  the  bow." 

"  Well  Cressey,  Poictiers,  arid  Agincourt  were  won  with  the  bow," 


STITCHING      A      BUTl'ON-HOLK.  11£ 

he  <;ii(l,  "and,  as  an  auxiliary  weapon,  it  is  still  as  effective  as  ever. 
However,  that  is  not  a  mere  speculation.  When  I  go  out  after  ca- 
rihoo,  1  always  carry  mine,  and  seldom  use  my  gun.  It  don't 
alarm  the  herd  ;  they  don't  know  where  the  shaft  comes  from,  and 
are  as  likely  to  look  for  it  in  the  lake  or  in  the  wild  grass,  as  anv 
where  else.  Let  us  try  them  together.  But  let  us  load  with  shot 
n«'\v.  We  shall  come  to  the  b.ook  directly,  and  where  it  spreads 
out  into  still  water,  and  the  flags  grow,  the  wild  fowl  frequent;  for 
'they  are  amazin  fond  of  poke-lokeins,  as  the  Indians  call  those  spots. 
\\  ••  may  get  a  brace  or  two,  perhaps,  to  take  home  with  us.  Come, 
let  us  push  ahead,  and  go  warily." 

After  awhile  a  sudden  turn  of  the  road  disclosed  to  us  a  flock  of 
blue-winged  ducks,  and  he  whispered,  '*  Do  you  fire  to  the  right, 
and  1  will  take  the  left."  When  the  smoke  from  our  simultaneous 
discharges  cleared  away,  we  saw  the  flock  rise,  leaving  five  of  their 
number  as  victims  of  their  careless  watch. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  said,"  he  remarked,  "  the  gun  is  superior  in 
many  respects;  but  if  we  had  our  bows  here,  we  would  have  had 
each  two  more  shots  at  them,  while  on  the  wing.  As  it  is,  we  can't 
iv load  till  they  are  out  of  reach.  I  only  spoke  of  the  bow  as  subor- 
dinate and  auxiliary;  but  never  as  a  substitute.  Although  I  am 
not  certain  that  with  our  present  manufacturing  skill, metallic  bows 
could  not  now  be  made,  equal  in  power,  superior  in  lightness,  and 
more  efivetive  than  any  gun  when  the  object  to  be  aimed  at  is  not 
too  minute,  for  in  that  particular,  the  rifle  will  never  be  equalled — 
certainly  not  surpassed." 

The  retriever  soon  brought  us  our  birds,  and  we  proceeded 
leisurely  on  our  way,  and,  in  a  short  time  were  overtaken  by  the 
v  ag^ons,"  when  we  advanced  together  towards  the  house,  which  we 
reached  in  about  an  hour  more.  As  soon  as  we  came  in  sight  of  it, 
the  dogs  gave  notice  of  our  approach,  and  a  tall,  straight,  priggish- 
looking  man,  marched,  for  he  did  not  hurry  himself,  bareheaded  to- 
wards the  bars  in  the  pole  fence.  He  was  soon  aftewa. ds  followed 
by  a  little  old  woman  at  a  foot  amble,  or  sort  of  broken  trot,  such 
as  distinguishes  a  Naraganset  pacer.  She  had  a  hat  in  her  hand, 
which  she  hastily  put  on  the  man's  head.  But,  as  she  had  to  jump 
up  to  do  it,  she  effected  it  with  a  force  that  made  it  cover  his  eyes, 
and  nearly  extinguish  his  nose.  It  caused  the  man  to  stop  and 
adjust  it,  when  he  turned  round  to  his  flapper,  and,  by  the  motion 
of  his  hand,  and  her  retrogade  movement,  it  appeared  he  did  not 
receive  this  delicate  attention  very  graciously.  Duty,  however, 
was  pressing  him,  and  he  resumed  his  stately  step  towards  the 
bars. 

She  a\ tacked  him  again  in  the  rear,  as  a  goose  does  an  intruder, 
and  now  and  then  picked  something  from  his  coat,  which  i  supposed 
to  be  a  vagrant  *hread,  or  a  piece  of  lint  or  strav ,  and  then  retreated 


ilt>  STITCHING     A     BUTTON- HOLE. 

a  step  or  two,  to  avoid  closer  contact.  He  was  compelled  at  last 
to  turn  again  on  his  pursuer,  and  expostulate  with  her  in  no  gentle 
terms,  1  heard  the  words,  "  mind  your  own  business,"  or  some- 
thins  of  the  kind,  and  the  female  voice  more  distinctly  (women 
always  have  the  best  of  it) ;  "  You  look  as  if  you  had  slept  in  it. 
You  aint  fit  to  appear  before  gentlemen."  Ladies  she  had  been 
unaccustomed  of  late  to  see,  and  therefore  omitted  altogether. 
"What  would  Colonel  Jones  say,  if  he  saw  you  that  way." 

To  which  the  impatient  man  replied  :  '•  Colonel  Jones  be  hanged. 
He  is  not  my  commanding  officer,  or  you  either — take  that,  will  you> ' 
old  ooman."  If  the  colonel  was  not  there  his  master  was.  therefore 
pressing  forward,  he  took  down  the  bars,  and  removed  them  a  one 
side,  when  he  drew  himself  bolt  upright,  near  one  of  the  po-ts.  and 
placing  hie  hand  across  his  forehead,  remained  in  that  position, 
without  uttering  a  word,  till  the  waggons  passed,  and  the-  Doctor 
said,  "  Well,  Jackson  how  are  you  f  "  Hearty,  sir  !  I  hope  your 
honor  is  well?  Why,  Buscar,  is  that  you,  dog  ;  how  are  you,  my 
man?"  and  then  he  proceeded  very  expeditiously  to  replace  the 
poles. 

"  What  are  you  stopping  for  ?"  said  the  Doctor  to  me,  for  the 
whole  party  was  waiting  for  us. 

"  I  was  adinirhV  of  them  bars,"  said  I. 

"Why,  they  are  the  commonest  things  in  the  country,"  he 
replied.  "  Did  you  never  see  them  before  ?"  Of  course  I  had.  a 
thousand  times,  but  I  didn't  choose  to  answer. 

"  What  a  most  beautiful  contrivance,"  said  I.  "they  are.  First, 
you  can't  find  them  if  you  don't  know  beforehand  where  they  are, 
they  look  so  like  the  rest  of  the  fence.  It  tante  one  stranger  in  a 
thousand  could  take  them  down,  for  if  he  begins  at  the  top  they 
get  awfully  tangled,  and  if  he  pulls  the  wrong  way,  the  harder  he 
hauls  the  tighter  they  get.  Then  he  has  to  drag  them  all  out  of 
the  way,  so  as  to  lead  the  horse  thiough,  and  leave  him  standin' 
there  till  he  puts  them  up  agin,  and  as  like  as  not,  the  critter  gets 
tired  of  waitin',  races  off  to  the  stable,  and  breaks  the  waggon  all 
to  flinders.  After  all  these  advantages,  they  don't  cost  but  a 
shilling  or  so  more  than  a  gate.  Oh,  it's  grand." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Doctor,  "1  never  thought  of  that  afore, 
but  you  are  right  after  all,"  and  he  laughed  as  good  humored \y  as 
possible.  "Jackson,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  your  honor." 

"  We  must  have  a  gate,  there." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  servant,  touching  his  hat.  But  he  honored 
me  with  a  look,  as  much  as  to  say,  "thank  you  for  nothing,  Sir 
It's  a  pity  you  hadn't  served  under  Colonel"  Jones,  for  he  would 
have  taught  you  to  mind  your  own  business  double  quick." 

We  then  proceeded  to  the  door,  and  the  Doctor  welcomed  the 


STITCHING     A     B  i:  T  T  O  \  -  H  O  L  E  .  117 

party  to  the  "  Bachelor  Beaver's-dam,"  as  he  called  it.  hi  the 
meantime,  the  bustling  little  old  woman  returned,  and  expressed 
great  delight  at  seeing  as.  The  place  was  so  lorvesorne,  she  said, 
and  it  was  so  pleasant  to  see  ladies  there,  for  they  were  the  first 
who  had  ever  visited  the  Doctor,  and  it  was  so  kind  of  them  to 
come  so  fir,  and  she  hoped  they  would  often  honor  the  place  with 
their  presence,  if  they  could  put  up  with  their  accommodation,  for 
she  had  only  heard  from  the  Doctor  the  night  before  ;  and  she  was 
so  sorry  she  couldn't  receive  them  as  she  could  wish,  and  a  whole 
volume  more,  and  an  appendix  longer  than  that,  and  an  index  to 
it.  where  the  paging  was  so  jumbled  you  couldn't  find  nothin'. 

Jackson  joined  in,  and  said,  he  regretted  his  commissariat  was 
so  badly  supplied.  That  it  was  a  poor  country  to  forage  in.  and 
that  there  was  nothing  but  the  common  rations  and  stores  for  the 
detachment  stationed  there.  But  that  nothing  should  be  wanting 
on  his  part,  and  so  on.  The  housekeeper  led  the  way  to  the  apart- 
ments destined  for  the  girls.  Peter  assisted  the  boy  to  unharness 
the  horses,  and  the  Doctor  showed  Cutler  and  myself  into  the  hall, 
win-re  the  break  fast-table  was  set  for  us.  Seeing  Jackson  marching 
to  the  well,  as  if  he  was  on  parade,  I  left  the  two  together  in  con- 
versation, and  went  out  to  talk  to  him. 

44  Sergeant,"  sais  I. 

'•  Yes,  your  honor,"  said  he,  and  he  put  down  the  pail  and  raised 
his  hand  to  forehead. 

"  I  understand  you  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  service  in  your 
time." 

44  Yes,  Sir,"  said  he,  looking  well  pleased,  and  as  if  his  talking  tacks 
were  all  ready.  I  had  hit  the  right  subject.  "  I  ave  gone  through 
a  deal  of  soldiering  in  my  day,  and  been  in  many  a  ard  fight, 
Sir." 

4i  I  see  you  have  the  marks  on  you,"  I  said.  "  That  is  a  bad 
scar  on  your  face." 

"  \Vfll,  Sir,"  said  he,  ''saving  your  presence,  I  wish  the  devil 
had  the  Frenchman  that  gave  me  that  wound.  I  have  some  I  am 
proud  of  having  received  in  the  service  of  my  king  and  country. 
I  have  three  balls  in  me  now,  which  the  doctors  couldn't  extract, 
and  nothin'  but  death  will  bring  to  the  light  of  day  again,  if  they 
can  be  said  to  be  seen  in  the  grave.  But  that  scar  is  the  only  dis- 
grace-fill  mark  I  ever  received  since  I  first  joined  in  1808. 

44  \Yhen  we  were  laving  siege  to  Baclajoz,  Sir,  J  was  in  the 
cavalry,  and  1  was  sent  with  a  message  to  a  brigade  that  was 
posted  some  distance  from  us.  Well,  Sir,  as  I  was  trotting  along, 
I  saw  a  French  dragoon,  well  mounted,  leading  a  splendid  spare  orse, 
belonging  to  some  French  hofficer  of  rank,  as  far  as  1  could  judge 
from  his  happearance  and  mountings.  Instead  of  pursuing  my 
course,  as  I  ought  to  have  clone,  Sir,  1  thought  I'de'make  a  dush  at 


113  STITCHING      A     B  D  T  T  O  N  -  H  O  L  E. 

the  rascal,  and  make  prize  of  that  are  hanirnal.  So  I  drew  my 
sword,  raised  m \self  in  my  saddle,  (for  I  was  considered  a  first- 
rate  swordsman,  as  most  I  linglishmen  hare  who  have  been  used  to 
'  the  single-stick,)  and  made  sure  I  ad  him.  Instead  of  turning,  he 
kept  steadily  on,  ami  never  as  much  as  drew  his  sabre,  so  in  place 
of  making  a  cut  hut  him,  for  I'de  scorn  to  strike  han  hunarmcd 
man,  rny  play  was  to  cut  his  rein?,  and  then  if  he  wanted  a  skrim- 
age  to  give  him  cr.e,  and  if  not.  to  carry  off  that  hare.  orse. 

''Well,  Sir,  he  came  on  gallantly,  I  must  say  that,  and  kept  his 
eye  fixed  steadily  on  me,  when  just  as  I  was  going  to  make  a  cut 
at  his  reins,  he  suddenly  seized  his  eavy-mounted  elmet,  and  threw 
it  slap  at  my  face,  and  I'll  be  anged  if  it  didn't  stun  me,  and 
knock  me  right  off  the  orse  flat  on  the  ground,  and  then  he  gal- 
loped  off  as  ard  as  he  could  go.  When  I  g.<t  up,  1  took  his  elmet 
under  my  harm,  and  proceeded  on  rny  route.  I  was  ashamed  to 
tell  the  story  straight,  and  I  made  the  best  tale  I  could  of  the 
scrimmage,  and  showed  the  elmet  in  token  that  it  was  a  pretty 
rough  fight.  But  the  doctor,  when  he  dressed  the  wound,  swore 
it  never  was  rna^"  with  a  sword,  nor  a  bullet,  nor  any  instrument 
he  knew  hon,  and  that  he  didn't  think  it  was  occasioned  by  a  fall, 
for  it  was  neither  insised.  outsised.  nor  contused — but  a  confusion 
of  all  three.  He  .questioned  me  as  close  as  a  witness. 

'"  But,'  says  I,  '  doctor,  there  is  no  telling  what  hirnplements 
Frenchmen  ave.  They  don't  fight  like  us,  they  don't.  It  was  a 
runnin'  scrimmage,  or  handicap  light.'  Yes.  Sir,  if  it  was  hanv- 
where  helse,  where  it  wouldn't  show,  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad.  but 
there  it  is  on  the  lace,  and  there  is  no  denvin'  of  it." 

Here  the  little  woman  made  her  appearance  again,  with  the  hat 
in  her  hand,  and  said  imploringly  : 

''Tom.  doee  put  your  hut  on.  that's  a  good  soul.  He  don't  take 
no  care  of  himseit,  Sir."  she  said,  addressing  herself  to  me.  "  He 
has  seen  a  deal  of  service  in  his  day,  and  ha*  three  bullets  in  him 
now,  and  he  is  as  careless  of  hisself  as  if  he  didn't  mind  whether 
1  was  left  alone  in  the  oulin'  wilderness  or  not.  Oh,  Sir,  if  you 
heard  the  wild  beastesis  here  at  night,  it's  dreadful.  It's  worse 
than  the  wolves  in  the  Pyreen  in  Spain.  And  then,  Sir,  all  1  can 
do  I  can't  get  him  to  wear  is  at,  when  he  knows  in  is  eart  he  had  a 
stroke  of  the  si'"  near  Badajoz,  which  knocked  him  off  his  orse, 
and  see  how  it  cut  his  face.  He  was  so  andsome  before,  Sir." 

"  Betty,"  said  '.he  sergeant,  "  the  Doeior  is  calling  yon.  Do  go 
into  the  ouse,  and  don't  bother  the  gentleman.  Ol^  Sir,"  said  he, 
"I  have  had  to  leu  a  eap  of  lies  about  that  are  scar  on  my  face, 
and  that's  ard,  Sir,  for  a  man  who  has  a  medal  with  five  clasps- 
ain't  it?" 

Here  the  doctor  came  to  tell  me  breakfast  was  ready. 


BT1TCHING      A     BUTTON-HOLK.  119 

"I  was  admiring,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "this  simple  contrivance  of 
yours  for  raising  water  from  the  well.  It  is  very  ingenious." 

44  Very,"  he  said,  "  but  I  assure  you  it  is  no  invention  of  mine. 
I  have  no  turn  that  way.  It  is  very  common  in  the  country." 

I  must  describe  this  extraordinary  looking  affair,  for  though  not 
unusual  in  America.  1  have  never  seen  it  in  England,  although  the 
hnppy  thought,  doubtless,  owes  its  origin  to  the  inventive  genius  of 
its  farmers. 

The  well  had  a  curb,  as  it  is  called,  a  square  wooden  box  open 
at  the  top,  to  prevent  accident  to  the  person  drawing  the  water. 
A  few  paces  from  this  was  an  upright  post  about  twelve  feet  high, 
having  a  ootch  at  the  t<-p.  A  long  beam  lies  across  this,  one  end 
of  which  rests  on  the  ground  at  a  distance  from  the  post,  and  the 
other  projects  into  the  air  with  its  point  over  the  well.  This  beam 
is  si-cured  in  the  middle  of  the  crotch  of  the  upright  post  by  an 
iron  bolt,  on  which  it  moves,  as  on  an  axle.  To  the  serial  end  is 
attached  a  few  links  of  a  chain,  that  hold  a  long  pole  to  which  the 
bucket  is  fastened,  and  hangs  over  the  well.  The  beam  and  its  pen- 
d .int  apparatus,  resembles  a  fishing-rod  and  its  line  protruding 
over  a  stream.  When  a  person  wishes  to  draw  water,  he  takes 
hold  of  the  pole,  and  as  he  pulls  it  down,  the  bucket  descends  into 
the  well,  and  the  heavy  end  of  the  beam  rises  into  the  air,  and 
when  the  pail  is  filled,  the  weight  of  the  butt  end  of  the  beam  hi 
its  de-cent  raises  the  bucket. 

44  Now,"  said  I,  •'  Doctor,  just  observe  how  beautiful  this  thing 
is  in  operation.  A  woman,  (for  they  draw  more  nor  half  the  water 
used  in  this  country,)  has  to  put  out  all  her  strength,  dragging  down 
the  pole,  with  her  hands  over  her  head,  (an  attitude  and  exercise 
greatly  recommended  by  doctors  to  women,)  in  order  to  get  the 
bucket  down  into  the  well.  If  she  is  in  too  big  a  hurry,  the  lever 
brings  it  up  with  a  jerk  that  upsets  it,  and  wets  her  all  over,  which 
is  very  refreshing  in  hot  weather,  and  if  a  child  or  a  dog  happens 
to  be  under  the  heavy  end  of  the  beam,  it  smashes  it  to  death, 
which  after  all,  aint  no  great  matter,  for  there  are  plenty  left  to 
them  who  have  too  many,  and  don't  care  for  'em.  And  then  if  it 
aint  well  looked  after,  and  the  post  gets  rotten  at  the  bottom,  on  a 
stormy  day  it's  apt  to  fall,  and  smash  the  roof  of  the  house  in, 
which  is  rather  lucky,  for  most  likely  it  wanted  shingling,  and  it  is 
time  it  was  done.  Well,  wnen  the  bucket  swings  about  in  the 
wind,  if  a  gall  misses  catching  it,  it  is  apt  to  hit  her  in  the  mouth, 
which  is  a  great  matter,  if  she  has  the  toothache,  for  it  will  extract 
corn-crackers  a  plaguey  sight  quicker  than  a  dentist  could,  to  save 
his  soul." 

4>  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  never  thought  of  that  before.  I  have  no 
turn  for  these  things,  I'll  have  it  removed,  it  is  a  most  dangerous 


1 20  THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 

thing,  and  1  wouldn't  have  an  accident  happen  to  the  sergeant  and 
dear  old  Betty  for  the  world." 

"  God  bless  your  honor  for  that,"  said  Jackson. 

"But  Doctor,"  said  I,  "joking  apart,  they  are  very  picturerque 
aint  they  ;  how  well  they  look  in  a  sketch,  eh!  Nice  feature  in 
the  foreground." 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  patting  me  on  the  back,  "  there  you  have  me 
again,  Slick.  Oh,  indeed  they  are,  1  can't  part  with  my  old  well 
pole,  oh  no,  not  for  the  world  :  Jackson,  have  an  e}e  to  it,  see  that 
it  is  all  safe  and  Ntrong,  and  that  no  accident  happens,  but  I  don't 
think  we  need  take  it  away.  Come,  Slick,  come  to  breakfast." 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  as  I  proceeded  t«>  the  hall,  "there  are  two 
classes  only  in  this  world.  Those  who  have  genius,  and  those  who 
have  common  sense.  They  are  like  tailors;  one  can  cut  a  coat, 
and  do  nothin'  else,  for  he  is  an  artist.  The  other  can  put  the  parts 
together,  for  he  is  a  workman  onlv.  Now  the  Doctor  is  a  man  of 
talent  and  learning,  an  uncommon  man,  but  he  don't  know  common 
things  at  all.  He  can  cut  out  a  garment,  but  he  can't  stitch  a  but- 
ton-hole. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE    PLURAL    OF    MOOSE. 

THE  room  in  which  we  breakfasted  was  about  eighteen  feet  square, 
having  a  large  old-fashioned  fire-place  opposite  to  the  front  door, 
which  opened  directly  on  the  lawn.  The  walls  were  fancifully 
ornamented  with  moose  and  dear  horns,  fowling-pieces,  fishing-rods, 
landing  nets  and  baskets,  bows  and  arrows  of^every  description, 
and  Indian  relics,  such  as  stone  hatches,  bowls,  rude  mortars,  images, 
war  clubs,  wampum,  and  implements  not  unlike  broad  swords  made 
of  black  birch,  the  edges  of  which  were  inlaid  with  the  teeth  of 
animals,  or  the  shells  of  fish,  ground  sharp.  Besides  these,  were 
akulls  of  great  size  and  in  good  preservation,  stone  pipes,  pouches, 
and  so  on,  also  some  enormous  teeth  and  bones  of  an  antediluvian 
animal,  found  in  Bras  Dor  lake  in  Cape  Breton.  It  was,  take  it 
altogether,  the  most  complete  collection  of  relics  of  this  interesting 
race,  the  Micmacs,  and  of  natur's  products  to  be  found  in  this 
province.  '  Some  of  the  larger  moose  horns  were  ingeniously  man- 
aged, so  as  to  form  supports  lor  polished  slabs  of  hardwood  for 
tables.  The  Doctor  informed  me  that  this  department  of  his 
mu>eum  was  under  the  sole  direction  of  the  Sergeant,  who  called 


THE     PLCKAL     OF     MOOSE.  121 

it  his  armory  and  to  whose  experience  in  the  arrangement  of  arms 
he  was  indebted  for  the  good  effect  they  produced.  The  only  ob- 
jreiion  he  said  he  had  to  it,  was.  that  classification  had  been  sacri- 
fice* 1  to  appearance,  and  things  were  very  much  intermixed;  but 
his  collection  was  too  small  to  make  this  a  matter  of  any  impor- 
tance. 

Jackson,  as  soon  as  the  Doctor  was  similarly  engaged  in 
showing  them  to  the  Captain  and  the  Miss  McDonalds,  for  whom 
they  seemed  to  have  a  peculiar  interest,  mounted  guard  over  me. 

"You  see,  Sir,"  said  he,  "the  moose  horns  are  the  only  thing 
of  any  size  here,  and  that's  because  the  moose  is  half  English,  you 
know.  Everything  is  small  in  this  country,  and  degenerates,  Sir. 
The  t'»\  ain't  near  as  big  as  an  English  one.  Lord,  Sir,  the  ounds 
would  run  down  one  o'  these,  fellows  in  ten  minutes.  They  haven't 
pot  no  strength.  The  rabbit,  too,  is  a  mere  nothink;  he  is  more 
of  a  cat,  and  looks  like  one  too,  when  he  is  hanged  in  a  snare.  It's 
so  cold  nothin  comes  to  a  right  size  here.  The  trees  is  mere  shruli- 
bery  compared  to  our  hoaxes.  The  pine  is  tall,  but  then  it  has  no 
sap.  It's  all  tar  and  turpentine,  and  that  keeps  the  frost  out  of  its 
heart.  The  fish  that  live  under  the  ice  in  the  winter  are  all  iley,  in 
a  general  way,  like  the  whales,  porpoises,  dog-fish,  and  cod.  The 
liver  of  the  cod  is  all  ile,  and  women  take  to  drinkin  it  now  in  cold 
woather,  to  keep  their  blood  warm.  Depend  upon  it,  Sir,  in  two 
•»r  three  generations,  they  will  shine  in  the  sun  like  niggers.  Portei 
\vould  be  better  for  'em  to  drink  than  ile,  and  far  more  pleasante) 
too,  Sir,  wouldn't  it  ?  It  would  fill  'em  out.  Saving  your  presence 
Sir.  you  never  see  a  girl  here  wi.h — " 

"  Hush  !  the  ladies  will  hear  you,"  I  said. 

'•  I  ax  your  honor' •»  pardon  ;  perhaps  1  am  making  too  bold,  but 
it's  nateral  for  a  man  that  has  seed  so  much  of  the  world  as  1  have 
to  talk  a  bit,  especially  as  my  tongue  is  absent  on  furlough  moro 
nor  half  the  year,  and  then  the  old  'ooman's  goes  on  duty,  and 
never  fear,  Sir,  her'n  don't  sleep  at  its  post.  She  has  seen  too  much 
sarvice  for  that.  It  don't  indeed.  It  hails  every  one  that  passes 
the  sentry-box,  and  makes  'em  advance  and  give  the  countersign. 
A  man  that  has  seed  so  much,  Sir,  in  course  has  a  good  deal  to  talk 
about.  Now,  Sir,  I  don't  want  to  undervaly  the  orns  at  no  rate, 
but  Lord  bless  yen,  Sir,  1  have  seen  the  orns  of  a  wild  sheep,  when 
1  was  in  the  Medeteranion,  so  large,  I  could  hardly  lift  them  with 
one  hand.  They  sav  young  foxes  sleep  in  them  sometimes.  Oh, 
Sir,  if  they  would  onlv  get  a  few  of  them,  and  let  them  loose  here, 
there  would  be  some  fun  in  unting  of  them.  They  are  covered  over 
with  air  in  summer,  and  they  are  so  wild  you  can't,  take  them  no 
otiu  i-  way  than  by  shooting  of  them.  Then,  Sir,  there  is  the  oro* 
of — " 

'•  But  how  is  the  moose  half  English  ?  "  sais  L 
6 


J  22  THE      PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 

"  Whv,  Sir,  I  heard  our  color-sergeant  M'Clure  say  so  when  we 
was  in  Halifax.  He  was  a  great  reader  and  a  great  arguer,  Sir,  as 
most  Scotchmen  are.  I  used  to  say  to  him,  '  M'Clure,  it's  a  won- 
der  YOU  can  fight  as  well  as  von  do.  for  in  England  fellows  who 
dispute  all  the  time,  commonly  take  it  all  out  in  words.' 

'•One  day,  Sir,  a  man  passed  the  north  barrack  gate,  tumpinar, 
(as  he  said,  whicn  means  in  English,  Sir,  hauling.)  an  immense  hull 
moose  on  a  sle  I,  though  why  he  didn't  say  so.  I  don't  know,  unless 
he  wanted  to  show  he  knew  what  M'Clure  calls  the  botanical  word 
for  it.  It  was  th<>  largest  hanimal  I  ever  saw  here. 

"  Says  Mac  to  him.     '  Wha»  do  you  call  that  creature  ?  ' 

"  '  Moose,1  sal-:1  he. 

"  '  Do  you  pretend  to  tell  me,'  said  Mac,  '  that  that  henormous 
hanimal,  with  orr.s  like  a  deer,  is  a  moose  ?' 

'; '  I  don't  pretend  at  all,'  s;iid  he;  '  I  think  I  houjjht  to  know  one 
when  I  see  it,  fci  I  have  killed  the  matter  of  a  undred  of  them  in 
my  day.' 

"  '•  It's  a  daumed  lee,"  said  the  Sergeant.  '  It's  no  such  thing;  I 
wouldn't  believe  it  if  you  was  to  swear  to  ir.' 

"'Tell  \ou  \\iiat,'  said  the  man,  'don't  go  for  to  tell  me.  that 
again,  or  I'll  lay  you  as  flat  as  he  is  in  no  time,'  and  he  cracked  his 
whip  and  moved  on. 

'• '  What's  the  use,'  said  I,  '  M'Clure,  to  call  that  man  a  liar? 
How  do  you  know  whether  it  is  a  moose  or  not,  and  he  is  more 
like  to  get  its  name,  right  than  yoj,  who  never  saw  one  afire.' 

"  '  Moose,'  said  he,  'do  yon  take  me  for  a  fool  ?  do  you  suppose 
he  is  a  goin  to  era  in  me  with  such  stuff  as  that  ?  The  idea  of  his 
pretending  to  tell  me  that  a  creature  six  feet  high  with  great 
spreading  antlers  like  a  deer  is  a  moose,  when  in  fact  they  are  no 
bigger  than  a  cock-roach,  and  can  run  into  holes  the  size  of  a  six- 
pence !  Look  at.  ine — do  you  set  anything  very  green  about  me  1 " 

"  '  Why,  Mac."'  sais  I,  '•  as  sure  as  the  world  you  mean  a  mouse.' 

"  '  Well,  I  sak1  a  moose,'  he  replied. 

"  '  Yes,  I  know  you  said  a  moose,  but  that's  not  the  way  to  pro- 
nounce a  mouse.  It  may  be  Scotch,  but  it  ain't  English.  *  Do  you 
go  into  that  hardware  shop,  and  ask  for  a  moose-trap,  and  see  how 
the  boys  will  wii/n.  to  each  other,  and  laugh  at  you.' 

' '  A.  man,'  sais  he,  drawing  hiriself  up,  '  who  has  learned  huma- 
nity at  .Glaskee,  don't  require  to  be  taught  how  to  pronounce 
moose.' 

"  '  As  for  your  humanity,'  said  I,  '  I  never  see  much  of  that.  If 
you  ever  had  that  weakness,  you  got  bravely-  over  it.  and  the  glas" 
key  must  have  been  broken  years  agone  in  Spain.' 

'• '  You  are  getting  impertinent,'  said  he,  and  he  walked  off'  and 
left  me. 

'•  It's  very  strange,  your  honor,  but  I  never  saw  an  Irishman  or 


THE     PLUKAL    OF     MOOSE.  123 

hman  yet  that  hadn't  the  vanity  to  think  he  spoke  English 
bettor  than  we  do." 

"•  But  the  Yankees  ?  "  said  I. 

"  \V  ell,  Sir,  they  are  foreigners,  you  know,  and  only  speak 
broken  English;  but  they  mix  up  a  deal  of  words  of  their  own 
with  it,  and  then  wonder  you  don't  understand  them.  They  keep 
their  mouths  so  busy  chawing,  they  have  to  talk  through  their 
noses. 

"A  few  days  after  that,  Sir,  we  walked  dow«  to  the  market- 
place, ana  there  was  another  of  these  hanimals  for  sale.  Bjt  per- 
haps 1  ant  making  too  bold.  Sir  ? " 

'•  Xo,  no.  not  at  all ;  go  on.     I  like  to  hear  you." 

"  '  Well,'  said  M'Clure  to  the  countryman,  '  '.Vliat  do  you  call 
that  ?' 

"  '  A  moose,'  said  he. 

"  Well,  1  gives  him  a  nudge  of  my  helbow,  to  remind  him  not 
to  tell  him  it  was  a  '  daumed  lee,'  as  he  did  the  uiner  man. 

"  '  What  does  moose  mean,  my  man  ?' 

'•  Would  you  believe  it.  Sir,  he  didn't  like  that  word  '  my  man,' 
partikelarly  coming  from  a  soldier,  for  they  are  so  hignorant  here, 
they  affect  to  look  down  upon  soldiers,  and  call  'em  'thirteen 
pences.' 

" '  Mean,'  said  he,  '  it  mean?  thu f,'  a-pointi'i'  to  the  carcass 
*  Do  you  want  to  buy  it]' 

u  '  Hem  !'  said  Mac,     '  Well  now,  my  good  fellow — ' 

"Oh,  Sir,  if  you  had  a  seen  tho  countryman  wb"-.i  he  heard  them 
words,  it  would  a  been  as  good  as  a  play.  He  eyed  him  all  over, 
very  scornful,  as  if  he  was  taking  his  measure  .ind  weight  for 
throwing  him  over  the  sled  by  his  cape  and  his  trowsers,  and  then 
he  put  his  hand  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  took  cut  a  large  blaek 
fig  of  coarse  tobacco,  and  bit  a  piece  out  of  it,  as  if  it  was  an  apple, 
and  fell  to  a  chewing  of  it,  as  if  t«  vent  his  wr^lli  on  it,  but  said 
nothhg. 

"  '  Well,  my  good  fellow,'  said  Mac,  '  when  there  are  more  than 
one,  or  they  are  in  the  plural  number,  what  do  you  call  them  ?' 

u  ;  Mice,'  said  the  fellow. 

'* '  Mice  !'  said  M'Clure,  '  I  must  look  into  that ;  it's  very  odd 
Still,  it  can't  be  mooses,  either.' 

"  lie  didn't  know  what  to  make  of  it ;  he  had  been  puz/led  with 
mouse  before,  and  found  he  was  wrong ;  so  he  thought  it  was  pos- 
sible '  mice'  might  be  the  right  word,  after  all. 

"  '  Well,'  said  he,  '  what  do  you  call  the  female  moose  ?' 

" '  Why,'  sais  the  man,  '  I  guess,'  a  talkin'  tVouiih  hjs  nose 
instead  of  his  mouth  — how  I  hate  that  Yankee  way,  don't  you, 
Sir1?  '  Why,'  sais  he,  '1  guess  we  call  she  he-inrose  M.  ann  ti«a 
uther  N,  as  ihe  case  may  be.' 


124  THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE 

'; '  Who  gave  them  that  name?'  said  M'Cluie. 

"  '  Why,  I  reckon,'  said  the  other,  '  their  godfathers  and  goj. 
mothers  al  their  baptism  ;  but  I  can't  say,  for  1  warn't  there.' 

'•'1  sav,  my  man,'  said  M'Clure,  'you  had  better  keep  a  civil 
tongue  in  your  head.' 

"  Ask  me  no  questions,  then,'  said  the  countryman,  'and  I'll  tell 
you  no  lies ;  but  if  you  think  to  run  a  rig  on  me,  you  have  made 
a  mistake  in  the  child,  and  barked  np  the  wrong  tree,  that's  all. 
P'raps  1  aint  so  old  as  you  be,  but  1  warn't  born  yesterday.  So 
slope,  if  you  please,  for  I  want  to  sneeze,  and  if  I  do  it,  it  will 
blow  your  cap  over  the  market-house,  and  you'll  be  lucky  if  your 
head  don't  go  along  with  it.' 

"  '  Come  away,'  said  J,  Mac,  '  that  fellow  has  no  more  manners 
than  a  heathen.' 

"  '  He's  an  hignorant  beast,'  said  he  ;  '  he  is  beneath  notice.' 

"The  man  card  that,  and  called  after  him  ;  '  1 1  officer,  hofficer,' 
said  lie. 

"  That  made  M'Clure  stop,  for  he  was  expectin'  to  be  one  every 
day,  and  the  word  sounded  good,  and  Scotchmen,  Sir,  aint  like 
other  people ;  pride  is  as  natural  as  oatmeal  to  them.  The  man 
came  up  to  us  limpin. 

"  '  Hofticer,'  said  he,  '  I  ax  your  pardon  if  I  offended  you  ;  I 
thought  you  was  a  pokin  fun  at  me,  lor  1  am  nothing  but  a  poor 
hignorant  farmer  from  the  country,  and  these  townspeople  are 
always  making  game  of  us.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  that  are  moose 
and  how  1  killed  him.  He  urt  my  feelins,  Sir,  or  I  never  would 
have  mislested  him  ;  for  Zack  Wilcox  is  as  good-natured  a  chap. 
it's  generally  allowed,  as  ever  lived.  Yes,  he  trod  on  my  toes,  [ 
don't  feel  right  yet;  and  when  any  fellow  does  that  to  me,  why 
there  aint  no  mistake  about  it,  his  time  is  out  and  the  sentence  is 
come  to  pass.  He  begged  for  his  life  ;  oh,  it  was  piteous  to  see 
him.  I  don't  mean  to  say  the  dumb  beast  spoke,  but  his  looks 
were  so  beseeching  just  the  way  if  you  was  tied  up  to  the  halbert 
to  be  whipped,  you'd  look  at  the  general.' 

"'Me?'  said  M'Clure. 

"'Yes,  you  or  anybody  else,'  said  the  man.  'Well,'  said  he, 
'I  told  him  I  wouldn't  shoot  him,  I'de  give  him  one  chance  for  his 
life;  but  if  he  escaped  he'd  be  deaf  for  ever  afterwards.  Poor 
feller,  I  didn't  intend  to  come  it  quite  so  strong  ;  but  he  couldn't 
stand  the  shock  1  gave  him,  and  it  killed  him — frightened  him  to 
death.' 

"'How? 'said  M-CIure. 

"'Why,'  sais  he,  Til  tell  you,'  and  he  looked  cautiously  all 
round,  as  if  he  didn't  want  any  one  to  know  the  secret.  '  I  gave 
him  a  most  an  almighty  hambler  that  fairlv  keeled  him  over.' 

"'What?'  said  M'Clure. 


THE     PLURAL     OF     MOO8K.  125 

u  •  »Vhv,'  sals,  he,  '  I  gave  him,'  and  he  bent  forward  towards  his 
«.ur  as  if  to  whisper  the  \void,  '1  gave  htm  a  most  thunderin'  ever 
lastin'  loud — '  and  he  gave  a  yeli  into  his  hear  that  was  eard  clea-i 
M  the  harbor,  and  at  the  ospital  beyond  the  dock-yard,  and 
t'other  way  as  far  as  Fre>h-water  biidge.  Nothin'  was  never  eard 
like  it  before. 

"  M'Cime  sprang  backwards  the  matter  of  four  or  five  feet,  and 
placed  his  hand  on  his  side-arms,  while  the  countryman  brayed  out 
a  horse-laugh  that  nearly  took  away  one's  earing.  The  truck-men 
gave  him  a  cheer,  for  they  are  all  Irishmen,  and  they  don't  like  sol 
diers  commonly  on  account  of  their  making  them  keep  the  peace 
at  ome  at  their  meetin'  of  monsters,  and  there  was  a  general  com 
motion  in  the  market.  We  beat  a  retreat,  and  when  we  got  out 
of  the  crowd,  sais  I,  '  M'Clure,  that  comes  of  arguing  with  every 
one  you  meet.  It's  a  bad  habit.' 

"  '  1  wasn't  arguing,'  sais  he,  quite  short ;  '  I  was  only  asking 
questions,  and  how  can  you  ever  learn  if  you  don't  inquire?' 

"  Well,  when  he  got  to  the  barrack,  he  got  a  book  wrote  by  a 
Frenchman,  called  Buffoon." 

"  A  capital  name,"  sais  I,  "  for  a  Frenchman  ;"  but  he  didn't 
take,  for  there  is  no  more  fun  in  an  Englishman,  than  a  dough 
pudding,  and  went  on  without  stopping. 

"  Sais  he,  '  this  author  is  all  wrong.  lie  calls  it  han  '  horiginal,' 
but  he  aint  a  native  animal ;  it's  half  English  and  half  Yankee. 
Some  British  cattle  at  a  remote  period  have  been  wrecked  here, 
>tr;iyud  into  the  woods,  and  erded  with  the  Carriboo.  It  has  the 
ugly  carcass  and  ide  of  the  ox,  and  has  taken  the  orns,  short  tail, 
niiii  its  spued  from  the  deer.  That  accounts  for  its  being  larger 
than  the  native  stags.'  1  think  he  was  right,  Sir ;  what  is  your 
opinion  T' 

The  doctor  and  the  rest  of  the  party  coming  up  just  then  put 
an  end  to  Jackson's  dissertation  on  the  origin  of  the  moose.  The 
foi  mer  said : 

"  Come,  Mr.  Slick,  suppose  we  try  the  experiment  of  the  bow." 
and  Jessie,  seeing  us  prepared  for  shooting,  asked  the  Doctor  for 
^mailer  ones  for  her  sister  and  herself.  The  targets  were  accord 
ingly  prepared,  and  placing  myself  near  one  of  them,  I  discharged 
the  gun  and  removed  a  few  paces  on  one  side,  and  commenced  as 
rapidly  as  I  could  to  reload,  but  the  Doctor  had  sent  three  arrows 
through  mine  before  1  had  finished,  it  required  almost  as  little 
time  as  a  revolver.  He  repeated  the  trial  again  with  the  same 
result. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  bow  now?"  said  he  in  triumph. 
''  Come,  Captain,  do  you  and  Mr.  Slick  try  your  luck,  and  see 
what  sort  of  shots  you  can  make.''  The  Captain,  who  was  an 
experienced  hand  with  a  gun,  afu^r  a  ftvr  attempts  to  ascertain  th« 


126  THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 

power  and  practice  necessary,  made  capital  play  with  the  how 
and  his  muscular  arm  rendered  easy  to  him  that  which  required  of 
me  the  utmost  exertion  of  my  strength.  Jessie  and  her  sister 
now  slept  forward,  and  measuring  ofl'a  shorter  distance,  took  their 
stations.  Their  shooting,  in  which  they  were  quite  at  home,  was 
truly  wonderful.  Instead  of  using  the  bow  as  we  did,  so  as  to 
bring  the  arrow  in  a  line  with  the  eye,  they  held  it  lower  down,  in 
a  way  to  return  the  elbow  to  the  right  side,  much  in  the  same 
manner  that  a  skilful  sportsman  shoots  from  the  hip.  It  seemed 
to  be  no  sort  of  exertion  whatever  to  them,  and  every  arrow  was 
lodged  in  the  inner  circle.  It  seemed  to  awaken  them  to  a  new 
existence,  and  in  their  excitement  I  observed  they  used  theii 
mother  tongue. 

"  Beg  \oiir  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Jackson  to  the  Doctor,  putting  his 
hand  to  his  forehead,  "  if  our  sharp-shooters  in  Spain  ad  ad  bows 
like  yours,  in  their  skrimages  with  the  French  light  troops,  they 
would  ave  done  more  service  and  made  less  noise  about  it  than  they 
did.''  And  saluting  me  in  the  same  manner,  he  said  in  an  under  tone, 

u  If  I  ad  ad  one  of  them  at  Badajoz,  Sir,  1  think  I'd  a  put  a  pen 
in  that  trooper's  mouih,  to  write  the  account  of  the  way  he  lost 
his  elmct.  A  shower  of  them,  Sir,  among  a  troop  of  cavalry, 
would  have  sent  riders  flying,  and  horses  kicking,  as  bad  as  a 
shower  of  grape.  There  is  no  danger  of  shooting  your  fingers  off 
with  them.  Sir,  or  firing  away  your  ramrod.  No,  there  ain't,  is 
there,  Sir  ? " 

"  Tom,  do'ee  put  on  your  hat  now,  that's  a  good  soul,"  said  h-s 
attentive  wife,  who  had  followed  him  out  a  third  time,  to  remind 
him  of  his  danger.  "  Oh,  Sir,"  said  she,  again  addressing  me. 
"  what  signifies  a  armless  thing,  like  an  harrow  ;  that's  nothin  but 
a  little  wooden  rod,  to  the  stroke  of  the  sun,  as  they  calls  it.  See- 
what  a  dreadful  cut  it's  given  him." 

Tom  looked  very  impatient  at  this,  but  curbed  in  his  vexation, 
and  said  "  thankee,  Betty,"  though  his  face  expressed  anything  but 
thanks.  "Thankee,  Betty.  There,  the  Doctor  is  calling  you. 
She  is  as  good  a  creature.  Sir,  as  ever  lived,"  he  continued  ;  "  and 
has  seen  a  deal  of  service  in  her  day.  But  she  bothers  me  to 
death,  about  that  stroke  of  the  sun.  Sometimes  I  think  I'll  tell 
her  all  about  it ;  but  1  don't  like  to  demean  myself  to  her.  She 
wouldn't  think  nothin  of  me,  Sir,  if  she  thought  I  could  have  been 
floored  that  way  ;  and  women,  when  they  begin  to  cry,  throw  up 
sometime,  what's  disagreeable.  They  "aint  safe.  She  would, 
perhaps,  have  heaved  up  in  my  face,  that  that  dragoon  had  slapped 
my  chops  for -me,  with  his  clmet.  I  am  blowed,  Sir,  if  I  can  take 
a  glass  of  grog  out  of  my  canteen,  but  she  says,  Tom,  mind  that 
stroke  of  the  sun.  And  when  !  ave  a  big  D  marked  agin  my  nam« 


THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE.  127 

{n  the  pension  book,  she'll  swear,  to  her  dying  day,  I  was  killed  by 
that  are  stroke." 

"  Why  don't  you  put  it  on  then,"  I  paid,  "just  to  please  her." 

'•Well,  Sir,  if  I  was  at  head-quarters,  or  even  at  han  houtpost, 

•where  there  was  a  detachment,    1  would   put  it  hon  ;  because  it 

wouldn't  seem  decent  to  go  bare-headed.     But  Lord  bless  you,  Sir, 

what's  the  use  of  ha  at  in  the  woods,  where  there  is  no  one  to  see 


you 


Poor  fellow,  he  din't  know  what  a  touch  of  human  natur  there 
was  in  that  expression,  "  what's  the  use  of  a  hat  in  the  woods,  when 
there  is  no  one  to  see  you  ?  " 

The  same  idea,  though  differently  expressed,  occurs  to  so  many. 
"Yes,"  said  1  to  myself.  "  put  on  your  hat  for  your  wife's  sake, 
and  your  own  too ;  for  though  you  may  fail  to  get  a  stroke  of  the 
sun,  you  may  get,  not  an  inflammation  of  the  brain,  for  there  ain't 
enough  of  it  for  that  complaint  to  feed  on,  but  rheumatism  in  the 
head  ;  and  that  will  cause  you  a  plaguey  >ight  more  pain  that 
the  dragoon's  helmet  ever  did,  by  a  long  chalk." 

But,  to  get  back  to  my  story,  for  the  way  I  travel  through  a 
tale,  is  like  the  way  a  child  goes  to  school.  He  leaves  the  path  to 
chase  a  butterfly,  or  to  pick  wild  strawberries,  or  to  run  after  his 
hat,  that  has  blown  oft*  or  to  take  a  shy  at  a  bird,  or  throw  off  his 
shoes,  roll  up  his  trousers,  and  wade  about  the  edge  of  a  pond,  to 
catch  polly  wogs ;  but  he  gets  to  school  in  the  eend,  though  some- 
what of  the  latest,  so  1  have  got  back  at  last,  you  see. 

Mother  used  to  say,  "Sam,  your  head  is  always  a  wool- 
gathering." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  says  1,  "marm." 

"  Why,  Sam,"  she'd  say,  "  why,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean." 

"  Because,  marm,"  I'd  reply,  "  a  head  that's  always  a  gatherin, 
will  get  well  stored  at  last." 

"  Do  get  out,"  the  dear  old  soul  would  say,  "  I  do  believe,  in 
my  lie-art,  you  are  the  most  nimpent  (impudent),  idlest,  good  for 
uothingeht  boy  in  the  world.  Do  get  along." 

But  she  was  pleased,  though,  after  all ;  for  women  do  like  to 
repeat  little  things  like  them,  that  their  children  say,  and  ask  other 
people,  who  don't  hear  a  word,  or  if  they  do,  only  go  right  off  and 
laugh  at  'em  :  Ain't  that  proper  cute  now?  Make  a  considerable 
smart  man  when  he  is  out  of  his  time,  and  finished  his  broughtens 
up,  won't  he  1 

Well,  arter  the  archery  meeting  was  over,  and  the  congregation 
disparsed,  who  should  I  find  myself  a  walkin  down  to  the  lake  with 
but  Jessie.  How  it  was,  I  don't  know,  for  I  warn't  a  lookin  for 
her,  nor  she  for  me;  but  so  it  was.  1  suppose  it  is  human  natur, 
and  that  is  the  only  way  I  can  account  for  it.  Where  there  is  a 
flower,  there  is  the  bee ;  where  the  grass  is  sweet,  there  IB  th« 


THE     PLCRAL     OF     MOOSE. 

sheep  •  where  the  cherry  is  ripe,  there  is  the  bird  ;  and  where  there 
is  a  gall,  especially  if  she  is  pretty,  there,  it  is  likely,  1  am  to  be 
found  also.  Yes,  it  must  be  natur.  Well,  we  walked,  or  rather, 
strolled  off  easy.  There  are  (lift-rent  kinds  of  gaits,  and  they  are 
curious  to  observe  ;  for  I  consait,  sometimes,  I  can  read  a  man's 
character  in  his  walk.  The  child  trots;  ihe  boy  scarcely  touches 
the  ground  with  his  feet,  and  how  the  plague  he  wears  his  shoes 
out  so  fast,  I  don't  know,  Perhaps  Dr.  Lardner  can  tell,  but  I'll 
be  hanged  if  1  can,  for  the  little  critter  is  so  light,  he  don't  even 
squash°the  grass.  The  sailor  waddles  like  a  duck,  and  gives  his 
trousers  a  jerk,  to  keep  them  from  going  down  the,  masts  (his  legs), 
by  the  run  ;  a  sort  of  pull  at  the  main-brace.  The  soldier  steps 
solemn  and 'formal,  as  if  the  dead  march  in  Saul  was  a  play  in.  A 
man  and  his  wife  walk  on  different  sides  of  the  street;  he  sneaks 
alon"  head  down,  and  xhe  struts  head  up,  as  if  she  never  heard  the 
old  proverb,  '  woe  to  the  house  where  the  hen  crows.'  They  leave 
the  carriage-way  between  them,  as  if  they  were  afraid  their  thoughts 
could  he  heard.  When  meetin  is  out.  a  lover  lags  behind,  as  if  he 
had  nothin  above  particular  to  do.  but  to  go  home- ;  and  he  is  in  no 
hurrv  to  do  that,  for  dinner  won't  be  ready  this  hour.  But,  as  soon 
as  folks  are  dodged  by  a  blue  bonnet  with  pink  ribbons  ahead,  he 
pulls  foot  like  a  lamp-lighter,  and  is  up  with  the  gall  that  wears  it 
in  no  time,  and  she  whips  her  arm  in  hisn,  and  they  saunter  off,  to 
make  the  way  as  long  as  possible.  She  don't  say  "  Peeowerful  ser- 
mon that,  warn't  it1?"  and  he  don't  reply,  "I  heerd  nothin  but  the 
text,  '  love  one  another.'  "  Nor  does  he  squeeze  her  arm  with  his 
elbow,  nor  she  pinch  his  with  her  little  blue-gloved  fingers.  Watch 
them  after  that,  for  they  go  so  slow,  they  almost  crawl,  they  have 
so  much  to  say,  and  they  want  to  make  the  best  of  their  time  ;  and 
besides,  walking  fast  would  put  them  out  of  breath. 

The  articled-clerk  walks  the  streets  with  an  air  as  much  like  a 
military  man  as  he  can  ;  and  it  resembles  it  almost  as  much  as 
electrotype  ware  does  silver.  He  tries  to  look  at  ease,  though  it  is 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  ;  but  he  imitates  him  to  a  hair  in  some 
things,  for  he  stares  impudent  at  the  galls,  has  a  cigar  in  his  mouth, 
dresses  snobbishly,  and  talks  of  making  a  book  at  Ascot.  The 
young  lawyer  struts  along  in  his  seven-league  boots,  has  a  white- 
bound  book  in  one  hand,  and  a  parcel  of  papers,  tied  with  red  tape, 
in  the  other.  He  is  in  a  desperate  hurry,  and  as  sure  as  the  world, 
somebody  is  a  dying,  and  has  sent  for  him  to  make  his  will.  The 
Irish  priest  walks  like  a  warder  who  has  the  keys.  There  is  an  air 
of  authority  about  him.  lie  puts  his  cane  down  on  the  pavement 
hard,  as  much  as  to  say,  do  you  hear  that,  you  spalpeen  ]  He  has 
the  secrets  of  all  the  parish  in  his  keeping;  but  they  are  other 
folk's  secrets,  and  not  his  own,  and  of  course,  so  much  lighter  to 
carry,  it  don't  prevent  him  looking  like  a  jolly  fellow,  as  he  is,  arter 


THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE.  129 

fi\t.  The  high-churchman  has  an  M.  B.  waistcoat « n,  is  particular 
about  his  dress,  and  walks  easy,  like  a  gentleman,  looks  a  little  pale 
about  the  gills,  like  a  student ;  but  has  the  airjpf  a  man  that  wanted 
you  to  understand,  1  am  about  my  work,  and  1  would  have  you 
to  know  I  am  the  boy  to  do  it,  and  do  it,  too,  without  a  fuss.  If 
he  meets  a  bishop,  he  takes  his  hat  off,  for  he  admits  his  authority. 
If  a  beggar  accosts  him,  he  slips  some  charity  in  his  hands,  and 
looks  scared,  lest  he  should  be  seen. 

The  low-churchman  hates  the  M.  B.  vestment,  it  was  him  who 
christened  it.  He  is  a  dab  at  nick  names.  He  meant  it  to  signify 
the  Mark  of  the  Beast.  He  likes  the  broad-brimmed  beaver,  it's 
more  like  a  quaker,  and  less  like  a  pope.  It  is  primitive.  lie 
looks  better  fed  than  the  other,  and  in  better  care.  Preachin  he 
finds,  in  a  general  way,  easier  than  practice.  Watch  his  face  as  he 
goes  along,  slowly  and  solemncoly  through  the  street.  lie  looks 
so  good,  all  the  women  that  see  him  say,  "  Aint  he  a  dear  man  ?" 
He  is  meekness  itself.  Butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth.  He 
has  no  pride  in  him.  If  there  is  any,  it  aint  in  his  heart  at  any 
rate.  Perhaps  there  is  a  little  grain  in  his  legs,  but  it  never  got 
any  higher.  Sometimes,  I  suspect,  they  have  been  touched  with 
the  frost,  for  the  air  of  a  dining-room  is  colder  under  the  table  than 
above  it,  and  his  legs  do  march  stiff  and  formal  like  a  soldier's,  but 
then,  as  he  says,  he  is  of  the  church  militant.  See  what  a  cuiious 
expression  of  countenance  he  has  when  he  meets  his  bishop,  iiead 
it,  it  says  :  "  Now,  rny  old  Don,  let  us  understand  each  other  ;  you 
may  ordain  and  confirm,  but  don't  you  go  one  inch  beyond  that. 
No  synods,  no  regeneration  in  baptism,  no  control  for  me  ;  1  won't 
stand  it.  My  idea  is,  every  clergyman  is  a  bishop  in  his  own  par- 
ish, and  his  synod  is  composed  of  pious  galls  that  work,  and  rich 
spinsters  that  give.  If  you  do  interfere,  1  will  do  my  duty  and  re- 
buke those  in  high  places.  Don't  rile  me,  for  I  have  an  ugly  fen, 
an  ugly  tongue,  and  an  ugly  temper,  and  nothing  but  my  sancuty 
enables  me  to  keep  them  under."  If  he  is  accosted  by  a  bege-ir, 
he  don't,  like  the  other,  give  him  money  to  squander,  but  he  gi\  <js 
him  instruction.  He  presents  him  with  a  tract.  As  he  passes  »  a, 
the  poor  wretch  pauses  and  looks  after  him,  and  mutters,  "Is  il  a 
prayer?  most  likely,  for  that  tract  must  be  worth  something,  fbi  /c 
cost  something  to  print.*1 

Then  there  is  the  sectarian  lay-brother.  He  has  a  pious  wa'K, 
looks  well  to  his  ways  lest  he  should  stumble,  and  casting  his  eyes 
down,  kills  two  birds  with  one  stone.  He  is  in  deep  meditation 
about  a  contract  for  a  load  of  deal,  and  at  the  same  time  regards 
his  steps,  for  the  ways  of  the  world  are  slippery.  His  digestion  is 
not  good,  and  he  eats  pickles,  for  the  vinegar  shews  in  his  face. 
Like  Jehu  Judd,  he  hates  "  fiddling  and  dancing,  and  serving  the 
6*  • 


130  THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 

devil,"  and  it  is  lucky  he  has  a  downcast  look,  for  here  come  two 
girls  that  would  shock  him  into  an  ague. 

Both  of  them  have  the  colonial  step  and  air  ;  both  of  them,  too, 
are  beautiful,  as  Nova  Scotia  girls  generally  are.  The  first  is 
young  and  delicate,  and  as  blooming  as  a  little  blush-rose.  She 
holds  out  with  each  hand  a  portion  of  her  silk  dress,  as  if  she  was 
walking  a  minuet,  and  it  discloses  a  snow  white  petticoat,  and  such 
a  dear  little  foot  and  ankle — lick  !  Her  step  is  short  and  mincing. 
She  has  a  new  bonnet  on,  just  imported  by  the  last  English  steamer. 
It  has  a  horrid  name,  it  is  called  a  kiss-me-quick.  It  is  so  far  back 
on  her  head,  she  is  afraid  p30ple  will  think  she  is  bare-faced,  so  she 
casts  her  eyes  down,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Don't  look  at  me,  please, 
I  am  so  pretty  I  am  afraid  you  will  stare,  and  if  \  ou  do  I  shall 
faint,  as  sure  as  the  world,  and  if  you  want  to  look  af  my  bonnet, 
do  pray  go  behind  me,  for  what  there  is  of  it,  is  all  there.  It's  a. 
great  trial  to  me  to  walk  alone,  when  I  am  so  pretty."  So  she 
compresses  her  sweet  lips  with  such  resolution  that  her  dear  little 
mouth  looks  so  small  you'd  think  it  couldn't  take  in  a  sugar-plum. 
Oh,  dear,  here  are  some  officers  approaching,  for  though  she  look* 
ou  the  pavement,  she  can  see  ahead  for  all  that.  \Vhat  is  to  be 
done.  She  half  turns  aside,  half  is  enough,  to  turn  her  back  would 
be  rude,  and  she  looks  up  at  a  print  or  a  necklace,  or  something  or 
another  in  a  shop  window,  and  it's  a  beautiful  attitude,  and  very 
becoming,  and  if  they  will  stare,  she  is  so  intent  on  the  show  glass, 
she  can't  see  them,  and  won't  faint,  and  her  little  heart  flutters  as 
one  of  them  says  as  he  passes,  "  Devilish  pretty  gall,  that,  Grant, 
who  is  she?"  and  then  she  resumes  her  walk,  and  minces  on. 

If  any  man  was  to  take  his  Bible  oath  that  that  little  delicate 
girl,  when  she  gets  home,  and  the  hall-door  is  shut,  will  scream  out 
at  the  tip  eend  of  her  voice,  like  a  screeching  paraquet,  "  Eliza 
Euphemia,  where  in  creation  have  you  stowed  yourself  too  ?"  and 
that  Eiiza  Euphemia  would  hear  her  away  up  in  the  third  story, 
and  in  the  same  key  answer:  "  I  can't  come  down,  I  aint  fit  to  be 
seen,  nary  way,  for  I'm  all  open  before,  and  onfastened  behind,  and 
my^hair  is  all  in  paper,"  I  wouldn't  believe  him;  would  >  ou  ? 

The  other  young  lady,  that  follows,  is  a  little  too  much  of  Juno, 
and  somewhat  too  little  of  Venus.  She  is  a  tall,  splendid-looking 
heifer,  as  fine  a  gal  as  you  will  see  in  any  country,  and  she  takes  it 
for  granted  you  don't  need  to  enquire  who  she  is.  She  aint  bold, 
and  she  aint  diffident;  but  she  can  stare  as  well  as  you  can,  and 
has  as  good  a  right  too.  Her  look  is  scorny,  as  the  snobocra<-y 
pass  and  do  homage,  by  bestowing  on  her  an  admiring  look.  Her 
step  is  firm,  but  elastic ;  it  is  a  decided  step,  but  the  pious  lay- 
brother  regards  her  not,  and  moves  not  out  of  his  way  for  her.  So 
she  stops  that  he  may  see  his  error,  and  when  he  does  look,  he  per- 
ceives that  it  would  lead  him  into  further  error  if  he  gazed  long, 


THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSK.  131 

so  he  moves  to  the  other  side  of  the  path,  but  does  it  so  slowly,  she 
confronts  him  again.  After  a  moment's  reflection,  he  tries  to  turn 
her  flank — a  movement  that  is  unfortunately  anticipated  by  her, 
and  there  is  a  collision  on  the  track.  The  concussion  dislocates  his 
hat,  and  the  red  silk  Bandannah  handkerchief,  which  acted  as  travel* 
ling-bag,  and  pocket-book,  discharges  its  miscellaneous  contents  on 
the  pavem.-nt.  That's  on  lucky  ;  for  he  was  a  going  to  shunt  off  on 
another  line,  and  get  away  ;  but  he  has  to  itopand  pick  up  the  frag- 
mentary freight  of  his  beaver. 

Before  he  can  do  this,  he  is  asked  by  Juno  how  he  dares  to  stop 
a  lady  in  that  indecent  manner,  in  the  sti'eet;  and  while  he  is  plead 
ing  not  guilty  to  the  indictment,  the  gentlemen  that  stared  at  the 
simpering  beauty,  comes  to  the  aid  of  the  fair  prosecutiix.  She 
knows  them,  and  they  say,  "  Capital,  by  Jove — what  a  rum  one  he 
is!"  Rum  one  ;  why  he  is  a  member  of  a  temperance  society,  walks 
in  procession  when  to  home,  with  a  white  apron  in  front,  and  the 
ends  of  a  scraf-like  sash  behind,  and  a  ro«elte  as  large  as  a  soup- 
plate  on  his  breast — a  rum  one ;  what  an  infamous  accusation  ! 

The  poor  man  stands  aghast  at  this ;  he  humbly  begs  pardon, 
*nd  J  uno  is  satisfied.  She  takes  one  of  the  beaux  by  the  arm,  and 
says  :  *•  Do  pray  see  me  home — I  am  quite  nervous;"  and  to  prove 
it  she  laughs  as  loud  as  any  of  them.  The  joke  is  now  being  carried 
too  far,  and  the  young  sword-knots  pick  up,  amid  roars  of  laughter, 
his  handke  chief,  the  papers,  the  horn-comb,  the  fig  of  tobacco,  the 
fractured  pipe,  the  jack-knife,  and  the  clean  shirt  collar,  that  was 
only  worn  once,  and  toss  them  into  his  hat,  which  is  carefully 
secured  on  his  head,  so  low  as  to  cover  his  eyes,  and  so  tight  as 
nearly  to  shave  off  both  his  ears.  The  lay  brother  thinks,  with 
great  truth,  that  he  would  sooner  take  five  yoke  of  oxen,  and  tail  a 
mu>t  for  a  frigate,  through  the  solid  forest  to  the  river,  than  snake, 
his  way  through  the  streets  of  a  garrison  town.  After  re-adjusting 
his  hat,  he  resumes  his  pious  gait,  and  Juno  also  goes  her  way,  and 
exhibits  her  decided  step. 

Now,  the  step  of  Jessie  and  myself  was  unlike  any  of  these — it 
was  a  natural  and  easy  one ;  the  step  of  people  who  had  no 
reason  to  hurry,  and,  at  the  same  time,  were  not  in  the  habit  of 
crawling.  In  this  manner  we  proceeded  to  the  lake,  and  sought  a 
point  of  land  which  commanded  a  full  view  of  it  on  both  sides,  and 
embraced  nearly  its  whole  length.  Here  was  a  clump  of  trees 
from  which  the  underwood  had  been  wholly  cut  away,  so  as  to  form 
a  .shade  for  the  cattle  depasturing  in  the  meadow.  As  we  entered 
the  grove,  Jessie  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Slick,  do  look  !  Here  is  a  canoe — can  you  use  a 
paddle  ?" 

"  As  well  as  an  oar,"  said  I,  "and,  perhaps  a  little  grain  better; 
for  I  haven't  been  down  all  the  New  Brunswick  and  Nova  Scotia 


132  THE     PLURAL     OF     MOOSE. 

rivers  in  'em  for  nothing,  let  alone  Lake  Michigan,  George,  Mada- 
waska  and  Kossignol,  ai  d  I  don't  know  how  many  others.     Step  in,  ^ 
and  let  us  have  at  them  on  the  water." 

In  a  minute  the  canoe  was  launched  and  away  'we  flew  like  light- 
ning. Oh,  there  is  nothing  like  one  of  those  light  elegant  graceful 
barks;  what  is  a  wherry  or  a  whale-boat,  or  a  skull  or  a  gig  to 
them  ?  They  draw  no  more  water  than  an  egg-shell ;  they  require 
no  strength  to  paddle  ;  they  go  right  up  on  the  beach,  and  you  can 
carry  them  about  like  a  basket,  With  a  light  hand,  a  cool  head 
and  a  quick  eye,  you  can  make  them  go  where  a  duck  can.  What 
nas  science,  and  taste,  and  handicraft  ever  made  to  improve  on  this 
simple  contrivance  of  the  savage.  When  I  was  for  two  years  in 
John  Jacob  Astor  Fur  Company's  employment,  I  knew  the  plav  of 
Jessie's  tribe. 

"  Can  you  catch,"  said  I,  "  Miss  f 

"  C;m  you  ]" 

"  Never  fear." 

And  we  exchanged  paddles  as  she  sat  in  one  end  of  the  canoe,  and 
I  in  the  other,  by  throwing  them  diagonally  at  each  other  as  if  we 
were  passing  a  shuttle-cock.  She  almost  screamed  with  delight, 
and  in  her  enthusiasm  addressed  me  in  her  native  Indian  language. 

"  Gaelic,"  said  I,  "  give  me  Gaelic  dear,  for  I  am  very  simple 
and  very  innocent." 

"Oh,  very,"  she  said,  and  as  she  dropped  her  paddle  into  the 
water,  managed  to  give  me  ihe  benefit  of  a  spoonful!  in  the  eyes. 

After  we  had  tried  several  evolutions  with  the  canoe  and  had  pro- 
ceeded homeward  a  short  distance,  we  opened  a  miniature  bay  into 
which  we  leisurely  paddled,  until  we  arrived  at  its  head,  where 
a  small  waterfall  of  about  forty  feet  in  height,  poured  its  tributary 
stream  into  the  lake.  On  the  right  hand  side  which  was  nearest  to 
the  house  was  a  narrow  strip  of  verdant  intervale,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  vast  shady  beeches  and  elms.  I  never  saw  a  more  lovely 
spot.  Hills  rose  aliove  each  other  beyond  the  waterfall,  like  but- 
tresses to  support  the  conical  one  that  though  not  in  itself  a  moun- 
tain, (for  there  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  one  in  this  province,)  yet 
loomed  as  large  in  the  light  mist  that  enveloped  its  lofty  peak.  As 
this  high  cliff  rose  abruptly  from  the  lake,  the  light  of  smaller  cas- 
cades was  discernible  through  the  thin  shrubbery  that  clothed  it3 
rocky  side,  although  their  "voice  \sas  drowned  in  the  roar  of  that  at 
its  base. 

Nothing  was  said  by  either  of  us  for  some  time,  for  both  were 
occupied  by  diifeivnt  thoughts.  I  was  charmed 'with  its  extraordi- 
nary beauty,  and  wondered  how  it  was  possible  that  it  should  be  so 
little  known  as  not  even  to  have  a  name.  My  companion,  on  the 
other  hand  was  eigaged  in  sad  reflections  which  the  similarity  of 


THE      I'LURAL     OK     MOOSE.  133 

the  scene  with  her  early  recollections  of  her  home  an  the  far  west, 
suggested  to  her  mind. 

'•  Ain't  this  beautiful,  Jessie  ?"  I  said,  "  don't  this  remind  you  of 
Canada,  or  rather  your  own  country  ?'' 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "  me — rne,"  for  during  the  whole  day  there 
!md  been  a  sad  confusion  of  languages  and  idioms,  "  me  very  happy 
mid  very  sad  ;  1  want  to  laugh,  I  want  to  cry  ;  I  am  here  and  there,' 
pointing  to  the  north  west.  '•  Laughing,  talking,  sporting  with  my 
father  and  Jane,  and  you,  and  am  also  by  the  side  of  my  deal 
mother,  far — far  beyond  those  hills.  I  see  your  people  and  my 
people;  I  paddle  in  our  canoe,  shoot  with  our  bows,  speak  our  lan- 
guage; yes,  I  am  here,  and  there  also.  The  sun  too  is  in  both 
places.  He  sees  us  all.  When  I  die,  perhaps  I  shall  go  back,  but 
I  am  not  of  them  or  of  you — I  am  nothing,"  and  she  burst  into 
tears  and  wept  bitterly. 

"Jessie,"  said  I,  "let  us  talk  about  something  else;  you  have 
been  too  much  excited  this  morning,  let  us  enjoy  what  God  gives 
us  and  not  be  ungrateful ;  let  your  sister  come  also,  and  try  the 
canoe  once  more.     This  is  better  than  a  hot  room,  ain't  it?  " 
'  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  "  this  is  life.     This  is  freedom." 

"  Suppose  we  dine  here,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  should  like  it  above  all  things.  Let 
us  dine  on  the  grass,  the  table  the  great  spirit  spreads  for  his  chil- 
dren ;"  and  the  transient  cloud  passed  away,  and  we  sped  back  to 
the  lawn  as  if  the  bark  that  carried  us  was  a  bird  that  bore  us  on 
its  wings. 

Poor  Jessie,  how  well  I  understood  her  emotions.  Home  is  a 
word,  if  there  is  one  in  the  language,  that  anpeals  directly  to  the 
heart.  Man  and  wife,  father  and  mother,  brothers  and  sisters, 
master  and  servant  with  all  their  ties,  associations  and  duties  all, 
all  are  contained  in  that  one  word.  Is  it  any  wonder,  when  her 
imagination  raised  them  up  before  her,  that  the  woman  became 
again  a  child  and  that  she  longed  for  the  wings  of  the  dove  to  Hy 
away  to  the  tents  of  her  tribe  in  the  far  west.  1  am  myself  as  dry, 
as  seasoned,  and  as  hard  as  the  wood  of  which  my  clocks  are  made. 
1  am  a  citizen  of  the  world  rather  than  of  Slickville.  But  1  too  felt 
my  heart  sink  within  me  when  I  reflected  that  mine,  also,  was  deso- 
late, and  that  1  was  alone  in  my  own  house,  the  sole  surviving 
tenant  of  all  that  large  domestic  circle,  whose  merry  voices  once 
made  its  silent  halls  vocal  with  responsive  echoes  of  happiness. 
We  know  that  our  fixed  domicile  is  not  here,  but  we  feel  that  it  is, 
and  must  continue  to  be  our  home,  ever  dear  and  ever  satred  until 
we  depart  hence  for  another  and  a  better  world.  They  k.,ow  but 
little  of  the  agency  of  human  feelings,  who  in  their  preaching, 
attempt  to  lessen  our  attachment  for  the  paternal  roof,  because,  in 
common  with  al"  other  earthly  possessions  it  is  perishable  in  it* 


134  THE     PLURAL.     OF     MOOSE. 

nature,  and  uncertain  in  its  tenure.  The  home  of  life  is  not  the 
less  estimable,  because  it  is  not  the  home  of  eternity  ;  but  the 
more  valuable,  perhaps,  as  it  prepares  and  fits  us  by  its  joys  and 
its  sorrows,  its  rights  and  its  duties,  and  also  by  what  it  withholds, 
as  well  as  imparts  fur  that  inheritance  which  awaits  us  hereafter. 
Yes,  home  is  a  great  word,  but  its  full  meaning  ain't  understood 
by  every  one. 

Jt  ain't  those  who  have  one,  or  those  who  have  none  that  com- 
prehend what  it  is;  nor  those  who  in  the  course  of  nature  leave  the 
old  and  found  a  new  one  for  themselves ;  nor  those  who  when  they 
quit  shut  their  eyes  and  squinch  their  faces  when  they  think  of  it, 
as  if  it  fetched  something  to  their  mind  that  warn't  pleasant  to  recol- 
lect; nor  those  who  suddenly  rise  so  high  in  life,  that  their  parents 
look  too  vulgar,  or  the  old  cottage  too  mean  for  them,  or  their 
former  acquaintances  too  low.  But  I'll  tell  you  who  knows  the 
meaning  and  feels  it  too ;  a  fellow  like  me  who  had  a  cheerful 
home,  a  merry  and  a  happy  home,  and  who  when  he  returns  from 
foreign  lands  finds  it  de-erted  and  as  still  as  the  grave,  and  all  that 
he  loved  scattered  and  gone,  some  to  the  tomb  and  others  to  distant 
parts  of  the  earth.  The  solitude  chills  him,  the  silence  appals  him. 
At  night  shadows  follow  him  like  ghosts  of  the  departed,  and  the 
walls  echo  back  the  sound  of  his  footsteps,  as  if  demons  were 
laughing  him  to  scorn.  The  least  noise  is  heard  over  the  whole 
house.  The  clock  ticks  so  loud  he  has  to  remove  it,  for  it  affects 
his  nerves.  The  stealthy  mouse  tries  to  annoy  him  with  his  mimic 
personification  of  the  burglar,  and  the  wind  moans  among  the  trees 
as  if  it  lamented  the  general  desolation.  If  ho  strolls  out  in  his 
grounds,  the  squirrel  ascends  the  highest  tree  and  chatters  and 
scolds  at  the  unusual  intrusion,  while  the  birds  fly  away  screaming 
with  affright,  as  if  pursued  by  a  vulture.  They  used  to  be  tame 
once,  when  the  family  inhabited  the  house,  and  listen  with  wonder 
at  notes  sweeter  and  more  musical  than  their  own.  They  would 
even  feed  from  the  hand  that  protected  them.  His  dog  alone  seeks 
his  society,  and  strives  to  assure  him  by  mute  but  expressive 
ge-tures  that  he  at  least  will  never  desert  him.  As  he  paces  his 
lonely  quarter-deck,  (as  he  calls  the  gravel  walk  in  front  of  his 
house,)  the  silver  light  of  the  moon  gleaming  here  and  there 
between  the  stems  of  the  aged  trees  startles  him  with  the  delusion 
of  unreal  white  robed  forms,  that  flit  about  the  shady  groves  as  if 
enjoying  or  pitying  his  condition,  or  perhaps  warning  him  that  in  a 
few  short  years  he  too  must  join  this  host  of  disembodied  spirits. 

Time  hangs  heavily  on  his  hands;  he  is  tired  of  reading,  it  is  too 
early  for  repose,  so  he  throws  himself  on  the  sofa  and  muses,  but 
even  meditation  calls  for  a  truce.  His  heart  laments  its  solitude, 
and  his  tongue  its  silence.  Nature  is  weary  and  exhausted  and 
sleep  at  last  comes  to  his  aid.  But  alas  \  he  awakes  in  the  morp 


A     DAT      ON      THE     LAKE.  135 

Ing  only  to  resume  his  dull  monotonous  course,  and  at  last  he  fully 
comprehends  what  it  is  to  be  alone.  Women  won't  come  to  see 
him,  for  fear  they  might  he  talked  about,  and  those  that  would 
come  would  soon  make  him  a  subject  of  scandal.  He  and  the 
world  like  two  peopje  travelling  in  opposite  directions,  soon 
increase  at  a  rapid  rate  the  distance  between  them.  He  loses  his 
interest  in  what  is  going  on  around  him,  and  people  los^  their 
interest  in  him.  If  his  name  happens  to  be  mentioned,  it  may 
occasion  a  listless  remark,  "  I  wonder  how  he  spends  his  time,"  or 
"  the  poor  devil  must  be  lonely  there." 

Yes,  yes,  there  are  many  folks  in  the  world  that  talk  of  things 
they  don't  understand,  and  they  are  precious  few  who  appreciate 
the  meaning  of  that  endearing  term  "  home."  He  only  knows  it 
as  I  have  said  who  has  lived  in  one,  amid  a  large  family,  of  which 
he  is  the  solitary  surviving  member.  The  change  is  like  going 
from  the  house  to  the  sepulchre,  with  this  difference  only,  one  holds 
a  living  and  the  other  a  dead  body.  Yes,  if  you  have  had  a  home, 
you  know  what  it  is,  but  if  you  have  lost  it,  then  and  not  till  then 
do  you  feel  its  value. 


CHAPTER   X. 
A   DAY    ON   THE    LAKE,   PART   I. 

WHEN  we  reached  the  grove,  I  left  Jessie  in  the  canoe,  and  went 
jp  to  the  house  in  search  of  her  sister,  Jackson  and  Peter  were 
sitting  on  the  wood-pile;  the  latter  was  smoking  his  pipe,  and  the 
other  held  his  in  his  hand,  as  he  was  relating  some  story  of  his 
exploits  in  Spain.  When  I  approached,  he  rose  up  and  saluted  me 
in  his  usual  formal  manner. 

"  Where  is  the  Doctor,"  said  I,  "and  the  rest  of  the  party  ?" 

"  Gone  to  see  a  tame  moose  of  his,  Sir,"  he  said,  "in  the  pas- 
ture; but  they  will  be  back  directly." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  lighting  a  cijiar  by  Peter's  pipe,  and  taking  a  seat 
alongside  of  him,  "go  on,  Jackson  ;  don't  let  me  interrupt  you." 

"  I  was  just  telling  Mr.  M'Donald,  Sir,"  said  he,  "of  a  night  ) 
once  spent  on  the  field  of  battle  in  Spain." 

"  Well,  go  on." 

"As  I  was  a  saying  to  him,  Sir,"  he  continued,  "you  could  hear 
the  wolves  among  the  dead  and  the  dying  a  howling  like  so  many 
devils.  1  was  afraid  to  go  to  sleep,  as  I  didn't  know  when  my 
turn  might  come  j  so  1  put  my  carbine  across  my  knees,  and  i.at 


136  A     DAY     ON     THE     LAKE. 

up  as  well  as  I  could,  determined  to  sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  poa 
sible,  bur.  I  was  so  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood,  that  I  kept  do/ing 
and  starting  all  the  time  amost.  Oh,  what  a  tedious  night  that 
was,  Sir,  and  how  1  longed  for  the  dawn  of  day,  when  search  should 
be  mad<-  among  us  for  the  wounded!  Just  as  the  fog  began  to 
rise,  1  saw  an  enormous  wolf,  about  a  hundred,  yards  or  so  from, 
me,  busy  tearing  a  body  to  pieces  ;  and,  taking  a  good  steady  aim 
at  him,  1  fired,  when  he  called  out : 

'"Blood  and 'ounds  !  you  cowardly  furrin  rascal,  haven't  you 
had  your  belly-full  of  fighting  yet,  that  you  must  be  after  mur- 
thering  a  wounded  man  that  way  ?  By  the  powers  of  Moll  Kelly, 
but  you  won't  serve  Pat  Kallahan  that  dirty  trick  again,  anyhow.' 

"As  he  levelled  at  me,  I  fell  back,  and  the  ball  passed  right  over 
me  and  struck  a  wounded  'orse  that  was  broke  down  behind,  and 
a  sittin'  up  on  his  fore-legs  like  a  dog.  Oh,  the  scream  of  thi  t  are 
hanimal,  Sir,  was  just  like  a  Christian's.  It  was  haw ful.  1  have 
the  sound  of  it  in  my  ears  now  haltnost.  It  pierced  through  me, 
and  you  might  have  'card  it  that  still  morning  over  the  whole  field. 
He  sprung  up  and  then  fell  over,  :md  kicked  and  struggled  furious 
for  a  minute  or  two  before  he  died,  and  every  time  he  lashed  out, 
you  could  a  'eard  a  'elpless  wound*  d  wretch  a  groanin'  bitterly,  as 
he  battered  away  at  him.  The  truth  is,  Sir,  what  I  took  for  a  wo'f 
that  hazy  morning  was  poor  Pat,  who  was  sitting  up,  and  trying 
to  bandage  his  ankle,  that  was  shattered  by  a  bullet,  and  the  way 
he  bobbed  his  head  up  and  down,  as  he  stooped  forward,  looked 
exactly  as  a  wolf  does  when  he  is  tearing  the  flesh  off  a  dead 
body. 

"  Well,  the  scream  of  that  are  'orse,  and  the  two  shots  the  dra- 
goon and  I  exchanged,  saved  my  life,  for  1  saw  a  man  and  a  woman 
making  right  straight  for  us.  It  was  Betty,  Sir,  God  bless  her,  and 
Sergeant  M'Clure,  The  'oulin'  she  sot  up,  when  she  saw  me,  was 
dreadful  to  'ear,  Sir. 

" '  Betty,'  said  1,  '  dear,  for  heaven's  sake  see  if  you  can  find  a 
drop  of  brandy  in  any  of  these  poor  fellows'  canteens,  for  I  am 
perishing  of  thirst,  and  'most  chilled  to  death.' 

" '  Oh,  Tom,  dear,'  said  she,  '  I  have  thought  of  that,'  and  un 
slinging  one  from  her  shoulders  put  it  to  my  lips,  and  I  believe  1 
would  have  drained  it  at  a  draft,  but  she  snatched  it  away  directly, 
and  said  : 

"'Oh,  do  'ee  think  of  that  dreadful  stroke  of  the  sun,  Tom.  It 
will  set  you  crazy  if  you  drink  any  more.' 

"'The  stroke  of  the  sun  be  hanged  !'  said  I;  'it's  not  in  my 
head  this  time—  it's  in  the  other  eend  of  me.' 

"  '  Oh,  dear,  dear  !'  said  Betty ;  '  two  such  marks  as  them,  and 
you  so  handsome,  too!  Oh,  dear,  dear  !' 

"  Poor  old  soul  !  it's  a  way  she  had  of  trying  to  come  round  me. 


A     DAY     ON     THE     LAKE.  137 

«' '  Where  is  it  ?'  said  M'Clure. 

" '  In  the  calf  of  my  leg,'  said  I. 

"  Well,  he  was  a  handy  man,  for  he  had  been  a  hospital-sargeant, 
on  account  of  being  able  to  read  doctors'  pot-hooks  and  inscrip. 
tions.  So  he  cut  my  boot,  and  stript  down  my  stocking  and 
looked  at  it.  Says  he,  'I  must  make  a  turn-and-quit.' 

'• l  Oh,  Rory,'  said  I,  '  don't  turn  and  quit  your  old  comrade  that 
way.' 

" '  Oh,  Rory,  dear,'  said  Betty,  '"don't'ee  leave  Tom  now — 
don't'ee,  that's  a  good  soul.' 

"'Pooh!'  said  he,  '  nonsense  !  How  your  early  training  has 
been  neglected,  Jackson  !' 

"'  Rorv,'  said  I,  'if  I  was  well,  you  wouldn't  dare  to  pass  that 
slur  upon  me.  I  am  as  well-trained  a  soldier,  and  as  brave  a  man, 
as  ever  you  was.' 

"'Tut,  tut,  man,'  said  he,  ;I  meant  your  learning.' 

"  '  Well,'  says  1, '  1  can't  brag  much  of  that,  and  1  am  not  sorry  for 
it.  Man)  a  better  scholar  nor  you,  and  better-looking  man,  too, 
has  been  anged  afore  now,  for  all  his  school  in'.' 

"Says  he,  Til  soon  set  \ou  up,  Tom.  Let  me  see  if  I  can  find 
anything  here  that  will  do  for  a  turn-and-quit.' 

"  Close  to  where  I  lay,  there  was  a  furrin  officer,  who  had  his 
head  nearly  amputated  with  a  sabre  cut.  Well,  he  took  a  beauti- 
ful gold  watch  repeater  out  of  his  fob,  and  a  great  roll  of  doub- 
loons out  of  one  pocket,  and  a  little  case  of  d;<Mn»nd  rings  out  of 
the  other. 

'"The  thieving  Italian  rascal !'  said  he,  'he  has  robbed  a  jew- 
eller's shop  before  he  left  the  town.'  and  he  gave  the  body  a  kick 
and  passed  on.  Well,  close  to  him  was  an  English  officer. 

'"  '  Ah.'  said  he,  '  here  is  something  useful,'  and  he  undid  his  sash, 
and  then  feeling  in  his  breast-pocket,  he  hauled  out  a  tin  tobacco- 
case,  and  openin'  of  it.  says  he  : 

" '  Tom,  here's  a  real  god-send  for  you.  This  and  the  sash  I 
will  give  you  as  a  keepsake.  They  are  mine  by  the  fortune  of 
war.  but  I  will  bestow  them  on  you.'" 

"  Oigh  !  oigh :"  said  Peter,  "  she  was  no  shentleman.1" 

"  He  warn't  then.  Sir,"  said  Tom,  not  understanding  him,  "  fot 
he  was  only  a  sargeant  like  me  at  that  time,  but  he  is  now,  for  he 
is  an  officer." 

"No,  no,"  said  Peter,  "the  king  can  make  an  offisher,  but  she 
can't  make  a  shentleman.  She  took  the  oyster  her  nainsel,  and 
gave  you  the  shell." 

"  Well,"  continued  Jackson,  "  he  took  the  sash,  and  tied  it  round 
my  leg.  and  then  took  a  bayonet  off  a  corpse,  and  with  that  twisted 
it  round  and  round  so  tight  it  hurt  more  nor  the  wound,  and  then 
hv  secured  thi--  1'U.youet  so  that  it  wouldn't  slip.  There  was  a  fur 


138  A     DAY     O  >T     T  H  K     LAKE. 

i\n  trooper's  'orse  not  far  off  that  had  lost  his  rider,  and  had  got 
his  rein  under  his  foreleg,  so  Betty  caught  him  and  brought  him  to 
where  I  was  a  sitting.  By  the  aid  of  another  pull  at  the  canteen, 
which  put  new  l.fe  into  rue,  and  by  their  assistance,  1  was  got  on 
the  saddle,  and  he  and  Betty  steadied  me  on  the  huniinal,  and  led 
me  off.  I  no  sooner  got  on  the  'orse  than  Betty  fell  to  a  crying 
and  a  scolding  again  like  anything. 

"  '  What  ails  you  now,'  says  1,  '  Betty  ?  You  are  like  your  own 
town  of  Plymouth — it's  showery  weather  with  you  all  the  year 
round  a' most.  What's  the  matter  now  T 

"  '  Oh,  Tom,  Tom,'  said  she,  'you  wi.l  break  my  'eart  yet — I 
know  .you  will.' 

"  •  Why,  what  have  I  done  ?'  says  I.  '  I  couldn't  help  getting 
that  little  scratch  on  the  leg.' 

"'Oh,  it  tante  that,'  she  said;  'it's  that  'orrid  stroke  of  the 
sun.  There's  your  poor 'ead  huncovered  again.  Where  is  your 
'elmetr 

"  '  Oh,  bother,'  sais  I,  '  'ow  do  1  know  ?  Somewhere  on  the 
ground,  1  suppose.' 

"  Well,  back  she  ran  as  'ard  as  she  could,  but  McClure  wouldn't 
wait  a  moment  for  her  and  went  on,  and  as  she  couldn't  find  mine, 
she  undid  the  furriner's  and  brought  that,  and  to  pacify  her  I  had 
to  put  it  on  and  wear  it.  It  was  a  good  day  for  McClure,  and  I 
was  glad  of  it,  for  he  was  a  great  scholar  and  the  best  friend  I 
ever  had.  lie  sold  the  'orse  for  twenty  pounds  afterwards." 

"  She  don't  want  to  say  nothin'  disrespectable,"  said  Peter, 
"  against  her  friend,  but  she  was  no  shent'eman  for  all  tat." 

"  He  is  now/'  said  Torn  again,  with  an  air  of  triumph.  "  He  is 
an  officer,  and  dines  at  the  mess.  1  don't  suppose  he'd  be  seen 
with  me  now,  for  it's  agen  the  rules  of  the  service,  but  he  is  the 
best  friend  1  have  in  the  world." 

"She  don't  know  nothin'  about  ta  mess  herself,"  said  Peter, 
"  but  she  supposes  she  eats  meat  and  drinks  wine  every  tay,  which 
was  more  tan  she  did  as  a  poy.  But  she'd  rather  live  on  oatmeal 
and  drink  whiskey,  and  be  a  poor  shentleman,  than  be  an  officher 
like  Rory  M'Clure,  and  tine  with  the  Queen,  Cot  bless  her." 

"  And  the  old  pipe,  then,  was  all  you  got  for  your  share,  was 
it?"  says  I. 

"  No,  Sir,"  said  Tom,  "  it  warn't.  One  day,  when  I  was  nearly 
well,  Betty  came  to  me. 

"  '  Oh,  Tom,"  said  she,  '  I  have  such  good  news  for  you.' 

'"  What  is  it?' sais  I ;  'are  we  going  to  have  another  genera] 
engagement  ] ' 

"  '  Oh,  dear,  I  hope  not,'  she  said.  '  Yon  have  had  enough  of 
fighting  for  one  while,  and  you  are  always  so  misfortunate.' 

"    Well,  what  is  it  ?'  sais  L 


A      DAY     ON     THE     I.  A  K  IJ  .  139 

** "  Will  you  promise  me  not  to  tell  ?' 

"  '  Yes,'  said  I,  '  I  will.' 

"  '  That's  just  what  you  said  ths  first  time  I  kissed  you.  Do  get 
out,'  she  replied,  'and  you  promise  not  to  lisp  a  word  of  it  to  Rory 
McClure  ?  or  he'll  claim  it  as  he  did  that  'orse  ;  and,  Tom,  I  caught 
that  'orse,  and  he  was  mine.  It  was  a  'orrid,  nasty,  dirty,  mean 
trick  that.' 

"  '  B.-tty,'  said  I,  'I  won't  hear  a  word  agin  him  :  he  is  the  best 
friend  1  ever  hud,  but  I  won't  tell  him,  if  you  wish  it.' 

"  Well,'  said  Betty,  and  she  bust  out  crying  for  joy,  for  she  can 
cry  at  nothing,  a'most.  '  Look,  T*>m,  here's  twenty  Napoleons ;  I 
found  them  quilted  in  that  officer's  'el met.'  So  after  all,  1  got  out 
of  that  scrape  pretty  well,  didn't  I,  Sir?" 

"  Indeed  she  did,"  said  Peter,  "  but  if  she  had  seen  as  much  of 
wolves  as  Peter  McDonald  has,  she  wouldn't  have  oeen  much 
frightened  by  them.  This  is  the  way  to  scare  a  whole  pack  of 
them,"  and  stooping  down,  and  opening  a  sack,  he  took  out  the  bag- 
pipes, and  struck  up  a  favorite  highland  air.  If  it  was  calculated 
to  alarm  the  animals  of  the  forest,  it  at  all  events  served  now  to 
recall  the  party,  who  soon  made  their  appearance  from  the  moose 
yard.  "  Tat,"  said  Peter,  "  will  make  'em  scamper  like  the  tevil. 
It  has  saved  her  life  several  times." 

9*'  So  1  should  think,"  said  I.  (For  of  all  the  awful  instruments 
that  ever  was  heard,  that  is  the  worst.  Pigs  in  a  bag  aint  the 
smallest  part  of  a  circumstance  to  it,  for  the  way  it  squeals  is  a 
jaution  to  cats.)  When  the  devil  was  a  carpenter,  he  rut  his  foot 
so  bad  with  an  adze,  he  threw  it  down,  and  gave  up  the  trade  in 
disgust.  And  now  that  Highlanders  have  given  up  the  trade  ot 
barbarism,  and  become  the  noblest  fellows  in  Europe,  they  should 
follow  the  devil's  example,  and  throw  away  the  bagpipes  for  ever." 

"  I  have  never  seen  McC'ure,"  said  Jackson,  addressing  me, 
"but  once  since  he  disputed  with  the  countryman  about  the  plural 
of  moose  in  the  country-market.  I  met  him  in  the  street  one  day, 
and  says  I, 

*' '  How  are  you,  Rory  ?     Suppose  we  take  a  bit  of  a  walk.' 

"  Well,  he  held  up  his  head  stiff  and  straight,  and  didn't  speak 
for  a  minute  or  two  ;  at  last  he  said  : 

"  '  How  do  you  do,  Sargeant  Jackson  ?' 

"  '  Why,  Rory,'  sais  I,  '  what  ails  you  to  act  that  way  ?  What's 
the  matter  with  you  now,  to  treat  an  old  comrade  in  that  manner'?" 

"  He  stared  hard  at  me  in  the  face  again,  without,  giving  any  ex- 
planation. At  last  he  said,  "  Sargeant  Jackson,'  and  then  he  stop- 
ped again.  '  If  anybody  speers  at  you  where  Ensign  Roderich 
McClure  is  to  be  found,  say  on  the  second  flat  of  the  officers' 
quarteis  at  the  North  Barracks,'  and  ho  walked  on  and  left  me, 
lie  h-id  got  his  commission." 


140  A      DAY     ON     THK      LAKE. 

"  She  had  a  highland  name,"  said  Peter,  "  and  tat  is  all,  but  she 
was  only  a  lowland  Glaskow  peast.  Ta  teivil  tack  a'  such  friends 

as  tat."" 

"  Doctor."  said  I,  "  Jessie  and  I  have  discovered  the  canoe,  and 
had  a  glorious  row  of  it.  1  see  \ou  have  a  new  skiff  there  ;  sup- 
pose we  all  finish  the  morning  on  the  lake.  We  have  been  up  to 
the  waterfall,  and  if  it  is  agreeable  to  you,  Jessie  proposes  to  dine 
at,  the  intervale  instead  of  the  house." 

'•  Just  the  thing,"  said  the  Doctor,  4i  but  you  understand  these 
matters  better  than  1  do,  so  just  give  what  instructions  you  think 
proper."  • 

Jackson  and  Betty  were  accordingly  directed  to  pack  up  what 
was  needful,  and  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  be  embarked  on 
our  return  from  the  excursion  on  the  water.  Jessie,  her  sister  and 
myself  took  the  canoe  ;  the  Doctor  and  Cutler  the  boat,  and  Peter 
was  placed  at  the  stern  to  awaken  the  sleeping  echoes  of  the  lake 
with  his  pipes.  The  Doctor  seeing  me  provided  with  a  short  gun, 
ran  hastily  back  to  the  house  for  his  b«w  and  arrows,  and  thus 
equipped  and  grouped,  we  proceeded  up  the  lake,  the  canoe  taking 
the  lead.  Peter  struck  up  a  tune  on  his  pipes.  The  great 
expanse  of  water,  and  the  large  open  area  where  they  were  played, 
as  well  as  the  novelty  of  the  scene,  almost  made  me  think  that  it 
was  not  such  bad  music  after  all,  as  I  had  considered  it. 

After  we  had  proceeded  a  short  distance,  Jessie  proposed  a  race 
between  the  canoe  and  the  boat.  I  tried  to  dissuade  her  from  it,  on 
account  of  the  fatitrue  she  had  already  undergone,  and  the  excite- 
ment she  had  manifested  at  the  waterfall,  but  she  declared  herself 
perfectly  well,  and  able  for  the  contest.  The  odds  were  against 
the  girls;  for  the  Captain  and  the  Doctor  were  both  experienced 
hands,  and  powerful,  athletic  men,  and  their  boat  was  a  flat-bot- 
tomed skiff,  and  drew  but  little  water.  Added  to  which,  the  young 
women  had  been  long  out  of  practice,  and  their  hands  and  muscles 
were  unprepared  by  exercise.  I  yielded  at  last,  on  condition  that 
the  race  should  terminate  at  a  large  rock,  that  rose  out  of  the.  lake 
at  about  a  mile  from  us.  I  named  this  distance,  not  merely  because 
1  wished  to  limit  the  extent  of  their  exertion,  but  because  1  knew 
that  if  they  had  the  lead  that  far,  they  would  be  unable  to  sustain 
it  beyond  that,  and  that  they  would  be  beaten  by  the  main  strength 
of  the  rowers.  We  accordingly  slackened  our  speed  till  the  boat 
came  up  alongside  of  us.  The  challenge  was  given  and  accepted, 
and  the  terminus  pointed  out,  and  when  the  signal  was  made,  away 
we  went  with  great  speed. 

For  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  distance,  we  were  bow  and 
bow,  sometimes  one  and  sometimes  the  other  being  ahead,  but  on 
no  occasion  did  the  distance  exceed  a  yard  or  so.  When  we  had 
but  the  remaining  tlrrd  to  accomplish*  I  cautioned  the  girl*  that 


A     DAT     ON     THE     I.  A  KB  14  J 

(lie  rowers  would  now  probably  put  out  all  their  strength,  and  take 
them  by  surprise,  and  therefore  advised  them  to  be  on  their  guard. 
They  said  a  few  words  to  each  other  in  their  native  language, 
laughed,  and  at  once  prepared  for  the  crisis,  by  readjusting  their 
scats  and  foothold,  and  then  the  eldest  said,  with  a  look  of  anima- 
tion, that  made  her  surpassingly  beautiful,  "  Now,"  and  away  we 
wvnt  like  iled  lightning,  leaving  the  boat  behind  at  a  rate  that  was 
perfectly  incredible. 

They  had  evidently  been  playing  with  them  at  first,  and  doing 
no  more  than  to  ascertain  their  speed  and  power  of  propulsion, 
and  had  all  along  intended  to  reserve  themselves  for  this  triumph 
at  the  last.'  As  soon  as  we  reached  the  winning  point,  I  rose  up 
to  give  the  cheer  of  victory,  but  just  at  that  moment,  they  suddenly 
backed  water  with  their  paddles,  and  in  turning  towards  the  boat, 
the  toe  of  my  boot  caught  in  one  of  the  light  ribs  of  the  canoe, 
which  had  been  loosened  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  and  I  instantly 
saw  that  a  fall  was  unavoidable.  To  put  a  hand  on  the  side  of  the 
little  bark  would  inevitably  overset  it,  and  precipitate  the  girls  into 
the  lake.  I  had  but^one  resource  left,  therefore,  and  that  was  to 
arch  over  the  gunwale,  and  lift  my  feet  clear  of  it,  while  I  dove 
into  the  water.  It  was  the  work  of  an  instant,  and  in  another,  1 
had  again  reached  the  canoe.  Begging  Jessie  to  move  forward,  so 
as  to  counter-balance  my  weight,  1  rose  over  the  stern,  (if  a  craft 
can  be  said  to  have  one,  where  both  ends  are  alike,  and  it  can  be 
propelled  either  way,)  and  then  took  the  seat  that  had  been  occu- 
pied by  her. 

"Now,  Jane,"  said  I,  "I  must  return  to  the  house,  and  get  a  dry 
suit  of  the  Doctor's  clothes  ;  let  us  see  what  we  can  do.  The  Doc- 
U>r  told  me  Betty  knew  more  about  his  wardrobe  than  he  did  him- 
self, and  would  furnish  me  with  what  J  required ;  and  in  the  mean- 
time, that  they  would  lay  upon  their  oars  till  we  returned.  Are 
you  ready,  Miss,"  said  1,  "1  want  you  to  do  your  prettiest  now, 
and  put  your  best  foot  out,  because  I  wish  them  to  see  that  1  an) 
not  the  awkward  critter  in  a  canoe  they  think  I  am." 

The  fact  is,  Squire,  that  neither  the  Doctor  nor  Cutler  knew,  that 
to  avoid  falling,  under  the  circumstances  I  was  placed  in,  and  to 
escape  without  capsizing  the  canoe,  was  a  feat  that  no  man,  but  one 
familiar  with  the  management  of  those  fragile  barks,  and  a  good 
swimmer,  too,  can  perform  Peter  was  aware  of  it,  and  appre 
ciated  it;  but  the  other  two  seemed  disposed  to  cut  their  jokes 
upon  me ;  and  them  that  do  that,  generally  find,  in  the  long  run,  I 
am  upsides  with  them,  that's  a  fact.  A  cat  and  a  Yankee  always 
come  on  their  feet,  pitch  them  up  in  the  air  as  high,  and  as  often, 
as  you  please. 

"  Now  for  it,"  said  I,  and  away  we  went  at  a  2.30  pace,  as  we 
say  of  our  trotting  horses.  Cutler  and  the  Doctor  cheered  us  as 


ADAYOXTHELAKU. 

we  went .  and  Peter,  as  the  latter  told  me  afterwards,  said  :  "  A 
man  who  ran  dwell  like  an  otter,  on  both  land  and  sea,  has  two 
lives."  I  indorse  that  saw,  he  made  it  himself;  it's  genuine,  and  it 
was  like  a  trapper's  maxim.  Warn't  it  ? 

As  soon  as  1  landed,  I  cut  ofFfor  the  house,  and  in  no  time  rigged 
.ip  in  a  dry  suit  of  our  host's,  and  joined  the  party,  afore  they 
knew  where  they  were.  I  put  on  a  face  as  like  the  Doctor's,  as 
two  clocks  of  mine  are  to  each  other.  1  didn't  do  it  to  make  fun 
of  him,  but  out  of  him.  Oh,  they  roared  again,  and  the  Doctoi 
ioined  in  it  as  heartily  as  any  of  them,  though  he  didn't  understand 
the  joke.  But  Peter  didn't  seem  to  like  it.  He  had  lived  so  mucli 
among  the  Indians,  and  was  so  accustomed  to  their  way  of  biling 
things  down  to  an  essence,  that  he  spoke  in  proverbs,  or  wise  saws. 
Says  he  to  me,  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  "  a  mnckiny-hird  has  no 
voice  of  its  own"  It  warn't  a  bad  savin',  was  it?  I  wish  I  had 
noted  more  of  them,  for  though  I  like  'em,  I  am  so  yarney,  I  can't 
make  them  as  pithy  as  he  did.  I  can't  talk  short-hand,  and  1  must 
say  I  like  condensation.  Now,  brevity  is  the  only  use  to  individu- 
als there  is  in  telegraphs.  Theie  is  very  little  good  news  in  the 
world  for  any  of  us  ;  and  bad  news  comes  fast  enough.  1  hate 
them  myself.  The  only  good  there  is  in  'em,  is  to  make  people 
write  short;  for  if  you  have  to  pay  for  every  word  you  use,  you 
won't  be  extravagant  in  'em,  there  is  no  mistake. 

Telegraphs  ruin  intellect  ;  they  reduce  a  wise  man  to  the  level 
of  a  fool  ;  and  fifty  years  hence,  there  won't  be  a  sensible  trader 
left.  For  national  purposes  they  are  very  well,  and  government 
ought  to  have  kept  them  to  themselves,  for  those  objects  ;  but  they 
play  the  devil  with  merchants.  There  is  no  room  for  the  exercise 
of  judgment.  It's  a  dead  certainty  now.  Flour  is  ei^ht  dollars  in 
England  ;  well,  every  one  knows  that,  and  the  price  varies,  and 
every  one  knows  that  also,  by  telegraph.  Before  that,  a  judgmati- 
cal trader  took  his  cigar  in  his  mouth,  sat  down,  and  calculated. 
Crops  short,  Russian  war,  blockade,  and  so  on.  Capital  will  run 
up  prices,  till  news  of  new  harvests  are  known  ;  and  then  they  will 
come  down  by  the  run.  lie  deliberates,  reasons,  and  decides. 
Now,  the  last  Liverpool  paper  gives  the  price  current.  It  advises 
all,  and  governs  all.  Any  blockhead  can  he  a  merchant  now.  For- 
merly, they  poked  sapev-headed  goneys  into  Parliament,  to  play 
dtimmey  ;  or  into  the  army  and  navy,* the  church,  and  the  colonial 
office.  But  they  kept  clever  fellows  for  law,  special  commissioners, 
the  stage,  the  'Times,'  the  '  Chronicle,'  and  such  like  able  papers, 
and  commerce;  and  men  of  middlin'  talents  were  resarved  for  doc- 
tors, solicitors,  Gretna  Green,  and  so  on. 

But  the  misfortinate  prince-merchants  now  will  have  to  go  to 
the  bottom  of  the  list  with  tradesmen  and  retailers.  They  can't 
have  an  opinion  of  their  own— the  telegraph  will  give  it.  Th» 


A     DAT     ON     THE     LAKK.  143 

latest  quotations,  as  they  call  them,  come  to  them,  they  know  thai 
iron  is  firm,  and  timber  giving  way,  that  lead  is  dull  and  heavy, 
and  coal  gone  to  blazes,  while  the  stocks  are  rising  and  vessels 
sinking  ;  all  the  rest  they  won't  trouble  their  heads  about.  The 
man  who  trades  with  Cuba,  won't  care  about  Sinope,  and  it's  too 
much  trouble  to  1-  ok  for  it  on  the  map.  While  the  Black  Sea  man 
•won't  care  about  Toronto,  or  whether  it  is  in  Nova  Scotia  or  V«*«" 
mont,  in  Canada  or  California.  There  won't  soon  be  a  merchant 
that  understands  geography. 

But  what  is  wuss,  half  the  time  the  news  is  false;  and  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  that,  old  Hemp  and  Iron  would  have  made  a  for- 
tune. And  if  it  is  true,  it's  worse  still,  for  he  would  have  acted 
on  his  own  judgment  if  he  hadn't  heard  it,  and  circumstances  would 
have  altered  as  they  always  are  doing  every  day,  and  he  would 
have  made  a  rael  hit.  Oh,  I  hate  them.  And,  besides  this,  they 
have  spoiled  them  l>y  swearing  the  operators.  An  oath  gives  them 
fellows  such  an  itch  to  blart,  that  though  they  don't  inform,  they 
let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  and  that  is  as  b^d.  Tell  you  what,  I 
wouldn't  like  to  confess  by  telegraph.  If  1  am  courting  a  gall,  and 
she  sais  all  right,  why  then  my  fun  is  spoiled,  for  when  a  thing  is 
settled,  all  excitement  is  gone,  and  if  1  am  refused,  the  longer  I 
am  in  ignorance  the  better.  It  is  wiser  to  wait,  as  the  frenchman 
did  at  Clare,  who  sat,  up  three  nights  to  see  how  the  letters  passed 
over  the  wires.  Well,  if  I  am  married,  I  have  to  report  progress, 
and  log-books  are  always  made  up  before  or  afterwards.  It's  apt 
to  injure  my  veracity.  In  short,  you  know  what  I  mean,  and  I 
needn't  follow  it  out,  for  a  nod  is  as  good  as  a  wink  to  a  blind 
horse. 

But  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  merchants;  any  fool  will  get  along 
as  well  as  the  best  of  them  now.  Dear  me,  I  recollect  a  man  they 
poked  fun  at  once  at  Salem.  They  induced  him,  by  way  of  a  rise, 
to  ship  a  cargo  of  blankets  and  warming-pans  to  the  West  Indies. 
Well,  he  did  so,  and  made  a  good  speck,  for  the  pans  were  bought 
for  dippers,  and  the  blankets  for  strainers.  Yes,  telegraphs  will 
reduce  merchants  to  the  level  of  that  fellow  Isaac  Oxter. 

But  1  must  look  for  the  trail  again,  or  I  shall  forget  my  story. 

I  think  I  left  off  where  1  got  back  in  the  canoe,  and  joined  the 
party  in  the  boat.  Well,  we  then  proceeded  like  the  off  and  near 
ox,  pulling  from  rather  than  to  each  other,  but  still  keeping  neck 
and  neck  as  it  *vere.  In  this  manner  we  proceeded  to  the  head  of 
the  lake,  and  then  as  we  returned,  steered  for  a  small  wooded 
island  in  the  centre,  where  I  proposed  to  land  and  rest  awhile,  for 
this  beautiful  sheet  of  water  was  of  considerable  ex  lent.  As  wo 
approached  it,  Peter  again  struck  up  his  pipes,  and  shortly  after- 
wards a  noble  male  moose,  as  much  terrified  by  the  noise,  as 
M'Donald  said  Canada  wolves  were,  broke  cover,  and  swam  for 


144  A     DAY     ON     THE     LAKE 

the  main-land.  The  moose  frequently  select  such  places  to  secure 
their  young  from  the  bears,  who  are  their  greatest  enemies,  and 
find  an  easy  prey  in  their  helpless  calves.  It  is  not  improbable 
that  the  female  still  remained,  and  that  this  act  of  gallantry  in  the 
buck  was  intended  to  withdraw  attention  from  her.  and  thus  save 
her  from  pursuit.  I  had  no  bullets  with  me,  and  my  gun  was  only 
loaded  with  duck-shot.  To  discharge  that  at  him,  would  have  beer 
a  wanton  act,  of  cruelty,  as  at  most  it  could  only  inflict  upon  him 
painful  wounds.  In  this  emergency,  Jessie  pointed  to  a  stout  half- 
inch  rope  that  was  coiled  up  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  and  I  im 
mediately  exchanged  places  with  her,  and  commenced  making  a 
lasso,  while  she  plied  the  paddle. 

We  gained  rapidly  upon  him,  and  I  was  preparing  to  throw  the 
fatal  noose  over  his  horns,  when  to  my  astonishment  he  raised  his 
neck  and  a  portion  of  his  fore-legs  out  of  the  water,  as  if  he  was 
landing.  We  were  then  a  considerable  distance  from  the  shore, 
but  it  appeared,  as  1  afterwards  learned  from  the  Doctor,  that  a 
long  low  neck  of  land, made  out  there  into  the  lake,  that  was  only 
submerged  in  the  spring  and  autumn,  but  in  summer  was  covered 
with  wild  grass,  upon  which  deer  fed  with  avidity,  as  an  agreeable 
change  from  browsing.  The  instinct  of  the  animal  induced  him  to 
make  for  this  shallow,  from  which  he  could  bound  away  at  full 
speed  (trot)  into  the  cover. 

All  hope  of  the  chase  was  now  over,  and  I  was  about  abandon- 
ing it  in  despair,  when  an  arrow  whizzed  by  us,  and  in  an  instant 
he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  exposed  his  huge  form  to  view.  He  was 
a  remarkable  fine  specimen  of  his  kind,  for  they  are  the  largest  as 
well  as  the  ugliest  of  the  deer  tribe.  For  an  instant  he  paused, 
shook  himself  violently,  and  holding  down  his  head,  put  up  his 
fore-leg  to  break  off  that  which  evidently  maddened  him  with  pain. 
He  then  stood  up  erect,  with  his  head  high  in  the  air,  and  laid  his 
horns  back  on  hi-s  neck,  and  giving  a  snort  of  terror,  prepared  to 
save  his  life  by  flight. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  animation  and  attitude  has  to  do  with 
beauty.  I  had  never  seen  one  look  well  before,  but  as  his  form 
was  relieved  against  the  sky,  he  looked  as  he  H,  the  giant  king  of. 
the  forest.  Me  was  just  in  the  act  of  shifting  his  feet  in  the  yield- 
ing  surf-ice  of  the  boggy  meadow,  preparatory  to  a  start,  when  he 
was  again  transfixed  by  an  arrow,  in  a  more  vulnerable  and  vital 
part.  He  sprung,  or  rather  reared  forward,  and  came  down  on 
his  knees,  and  then  several  times  repeated  the  attempt  to  com- 
mence  his  flight  by  the  same  desperate  effort.  At  last  he  fell  to 
rise  no  more,  and  soon  rolled  over,  and  after  some  splashing  with 
his  head  to  .avoid  the  impending  death  by  drowning,  quietly  sub- 
mitted to  his  fate.  Nothing  now  was  visible  of  him  but  the  top? 


A     DAT     ON     THE     LAKE. 
/ 

of  his  horns,  and  a  small  strip  of  tne  nine  that  covered  his  ribs.  A 
shout  from  the  boat  proclaimed  the  victory. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  Doctor,  "what  could  you  have  dont 
with  only  a  charge  of  duck-shot  in  your  gun,  eh  ?  The  arrow,  you 
sec.  served  for  shot  and  bullet.  I  could  have  killed  him  with  the 
first  shaft,  but  his  head  was  turned  and  covered  *he  vital  spot.  So 
1  had  to  aim  a  little  too  far  forward,  but  still  it  carried  a  death- 
warrant  with  it,  for  he  couldn't  have  run  over  a  mile  without 
falling  from  exhaustion,  arising  from  the  loss  of  blood.  It  is  a 
charming  day  for  the  bow,  for  there  is  no  wind,  and  1  could  hit  a 
dollar  at  a  hundred  and  twenty  yards.  There  is  another  on  that 
island,  but  she  probably  has  a  calf,  perhaps  two,  and  it  would  be  a 
wicked  waste  of  the  food  that  God  provides  for  us  to  destroy  her. 
3ut  we  must  get  this  gentleman  into  the  boat,  and  it  will  bring  us 
down  so  deep  in  the  water,  we  must  keep  near  the  shore,  as  it  may 
be  necessary  occasionally  to  wade." 

Peter,  without  ceremony,  began  to  make  preparations  for  such 
an  emergency.  He  had  been  accustomed  all  his  life,  until  he  left 
the  Norwest  Company's  employment,  to  the  kilt,  and  he  neither 
felt  nor  looked  at  home  in  the  trousers.  Like  most  of  his  country- 
men, he  thought  there  was  more  beauty  in  a  hairy  leg,  and  in  a 
manly  shammy-leather  looking  skin,  than  in  any  covering.  While 
his  b;ild  knee,  the  ugliest,  weakest,  most  complicated  and  important 
joint  in  the  frame,  he  no  doubt  regarded  with  as  much  veneration 
as  the  pious  do  the  shaven  crown  of  a  monk.  He  therefore  very 
complacently  and  coolly  began  to  disencumber  himself  of  this 
detestable  article  of  the  tailor's  skill.  I  thought  it  best  therefore 
to  push  off  in  time,  to  spare  his  daughters  this  spectacle,  merely 
telling  the  Doctor  we  would  wait  for  him  where  we  had  embarked. 

We  proceeded  very  leisurely,  only  once  in  a  while  dipping  the 
paddle  gently  into  the  water,  so  as  to  keep  up  the  motion  of  the 
canoe.  The  girls  amused  themselves  by  imitating  the  call  and 
answer  of  the  loon,  the  blue  jay,  the  king-fisher,  and  the  owl.  With 
a  piece  of  bark,  rolled  up  in  the  form  of  a  short-ear  trumpet,  they 
mimicked  the  hideous  voice  of  the  moose,  and  the  not  less  disagree- 
able lowing  of  the  cariboo.  The  martin  started  in  surprise  at  his 
all'righted  neighbor  on  the  water,  and  the  fox  no  doubt,  crept  from 
his  hole  to  listen  to  the  voice  that  called  him  to  plunder,  at  this 
dangerous  hour.  All  these  sounds  are  signals  among  the  Indians, 
and  are  carri.-d  to  a  perfection,  that  deceives  the  ear  of  nature 
itself.  1  had  read  of  their  great  power,  in  this  species  of  ventrilo- 
quism, but  never  had  heard  it  practised  before,  with  the  exception 
of  the  imitation  of  the  deer  tribe,  which  is  well-known  to  white 
"still-hunters." 

They  are,  in  their  own  country,  not  very  communicative  to 
strangers ;  and  above  all,  never  disclose  practices  so  peculiarly 


l±Q  A     DAY     ON     THE     LAKE. 

reserved  for  their  own  service  or  defence.     I  was  amazed  at  theii 
skill  in  this  branch  of  Indian  accomplishment. 

But  the  notes  of  the  de;ir  little  chick-a-deadee  charmed  me  the 
most.  The  sti!lnese  of  this  wild,  sequestered  place,  was  most  agree- 
abty  diversified  by  all  these  fictitious  birds  and  beasts,  that  seemed 
inv'iting,  each  his  own  kind,  to  come  and  look  at  this  lovely  scene. 
From  the  wonderful  control  th.-y  appeared  to  have  over  their 
voices,  I  knew  that  one,  or  both  of  them  must  sing.  1  therefore 
asked 'them  if  they  knew  the  Canadian-boat  song;  and  they 
answered,  with  great  delight,  that  they  did.  And  suiting  th« 
action  to  the  word,  which,  by  the  bye,  adds  marvellously  to  its 
effect,  they  sung  it  charmingly.  I  couldn't  resist  their  entreaties  to 
join  in  it,  although  I  would  infinitely  have  preferred  listening  to 
taking  a  part.  When  we  concluded  it,  Jessie  said  it  was  much 
prettfer  in  her  native  tongue,  and  sing  a  verse  in  her  own  i;vr. 
guage.  She  said  the  governor  of  the  tort,  who  spoke  Indian,  as 
well  as  English,  had  arranged  the  words  f  .r  it,  and  when  she  was 
a  child  in  his  family,  she  learned  it.  '  Listen,"  said  she,  "  what  is 

that?" 

It  was  Jackson  playing  on  the  key-bugle.  Oh,  how  gloriously 
it  sounded,  as  its  notes  fell  on  the  ear,  mellowed  and  softened  by 
the  distance.  When  Englishmen  talk  of  the  hunters'  horn  in  the 
morning,  they  don't  know  what  they  are  a  saying  of.  It's  well 
enough  I  do  suppose  in  the  field,  as  it  wakes  the  drowsy  sports- 
man, and  reminds  him  that  there  is  a  hard  day's  ride  before  him. 
But  the  lake  and  the  forest  is  nature's  amphitheatre,  and  it  is  at 
home  there.  It  won't  speak  as  it  can  do  at  all  times  and  in  all 
places;  but  it  gives  its  whole  soul  out  in  the  woods;  and  the 
echoes  love  it,  and  the  mountains  wave  their  p'umes  of  pines  to  it, 
as  if  they  wanted  to  be  wooed  by  its  clear,  sweet,  powerful  notes.* 
All  nature  listens  to  it,  and  keeps  silence,  while  it  lifts  its  voice  on 
high.  The  breeze  wafts  its  music  on  its  wings,  as  if  proud-of  its 
trust;  and  the  lake  lies  still,  and  pants  like  a  thing  of  life,  as  if  its 
heart  beat  to  its  tones.  The  birds-are  all  hushed,  as  if  afraid  to 
disturb  it;  and  the  deer  pause,  and  listen,  and  gaze  on  the  skies, 
as  if  the  music  came  from  Heaven.  Money  only  can  move  some 
men,  and  a  white  heat  alone  dissolve  stones.  But  he  wh<>  has  ever 
heard  the  bugle,  and  is  not  inspired  by  it,  has  no  divinity  within 
him.  The  body  is  there,  but  the  soul  is  wanting. 

*  This  inflated  passage,  and  some  other  similar  ones,  are  extremely  charac- 
teristic of  Americans  in  the  same  station  of  life  as  Slick.  From  the  use  of 
superlative  expressions  in  their  conversation,  they  naturally  adopt  an  oxairue- 
rative  style  in  writing,  and  the  minor  poets  and  provincial  orators  of  the  Rppu'tj- 
lic  are  distinguished  for  this  hyperbolical  tone.  In  Great  Britain  they  would 
be  admired  by  the  Irish;  on  the  Continent,  by  the  Gascon*.  If  Mr.  Slick  wrn 
not  aQected  by  this  weakness  himself,  he  wculd  be  among  the  first  to  detect 
and  ridicule  it  in  others. 


A     DAY     ON     T1IE     LAKE.  147 

"  Go  on,  Jackson,  I  will  forgive  your  twaddle  about  Sargent 
M'Clure,  the  stroke  of  the  sun,  the  trooper's  helmet,  and  the  night 
among  the  wolves.  I  will  listen  to  your  old  soldier's  stories  all 
night,  only  go  on,  and  play  for  me.  Giv«  me  that  simple  air 
again.  Let  me  drink  it  in  with  my  ears,  till  my  heart  is  full.  No 
grace  notes,  no  tricks  of  the  band-master's,  no  flourishes;  let  it  be 
simple  and  natural.  Let  it  suit  us,  and  the  place  we  are  in,  for  it 
is  the  voice  of  our  common  parent,  nature."  Ah,  he  didn't  hear 
me,  and  he  ceased. 

"Jessie,  dear,  ain't  that  beautiful  ?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  (and  she  clasped  her  hands  hard,)  "  it  is  like  the 
sound  of  a  spirit  speaking  from  above." 

"  Imitate  it,"  said  I. 

She  knew  the  air,  it  was  a  Scotch  one;  and  their  music  is  the 
most  touching,  because  the  most*siinple,  I  know. 

Squire,  you  will  think  I  am  getting  spooney,  but  I  ain't.  You 
know  how  fond  I  am  of  nature,  a.id  always  was;  but  I  suppose  you 
will  think  if  1  ain't  talking  Turkey,  that  I  am  getting  cninkey,  when 
I  tell  you  an  idea  that  came  into  my  mind  just  then.  She  imitated 
it  in  the  most  perfect  manner  possible.  Her  clear,  sweet,  mellow, 
but  powerful  notes,  never  charmed  me  so  before.  I  thought  it 
sounded  like  a  maiden,  answering  her  lover.  One  was  a  masculine, 
tiie  other  a  female  voice.  The  only  difference  was  in  the  force,  but 
softness  was  common  to  both.  Can  I  ever  forget  the  enchantment 
of  that  day  1 

'•  Dear  Jessie,"  said  I,  "you  and  your  friend  are  just  formed  for 
each  other.  How  happy  you  Could  make  him." 

"  Who  T'  said  she,  and  there  .vas  no  affectation  in  the  question. 
She  knew  not  the  import  of  that  word.  '•  What  do  you  mean  <" 

"Hush,"  said  I,  '-I  will  tell  yt  u  by  and  bye.  Old  Tom  is  play- 
ing again." 

It  was  "  Auld  Lang  Syne."  How  touching  it  was.  It  brought 
tears  to  Jes-ie's  eyes'.  She  had  learned  it,  when  a  child,  far,  tar 
away  ;  and  it  recalled  her  tribe,  her  childhood,  her  country,  and 
her  mother.  I  could  see  these  thoughts  throw  their  shadows  over 
her  face,  as  light  clouds  chase  each  other  before  the  sun,  and  throw 
their  veil,  as  they  course  along  the  sky,  over  the  glowing  landscape. 
It  made  me  feel  sad,  too;  for  how  many  of  them,  with  whom  my 
early  years  were  spent,  have  passed  away.  Of  all  the  fruit  born 
by  the  iree  of  life,  how  small  a  portion  drops  from  it,  when  fully 
ripe,  and  in  the  due  course  of  nature.  The  worm,  and  premature 
decay,  are  continually  thinning  them  ;  and  the  tempest  and  the 
blight  destroy  the  greater  part  of  those  that  are  left.  Poor  dear 
worthy  old  minister,  you,  too,  are  gone,  but  not  forgotten.  ll«»w 
could  I  have  had  these  thoughts?  How  could  I  have  enjoyed 
th<-se  scenes  1  and  how  described  them?  but  for  you!  Innocent, 


J-iS  A     DAT     ON     THE     LAKE. 

pure,  and  simple-minded  man,  how  fond  you  were  of  nature,,  the 
handy-work  of  God,  as  you  used  to  call  it.  How  full  you  were  of 
poetry,  beauty,  and  sublimity?  And  what  do  I  not  owe  to  you? 
I  am  not  ashamed  of  having  beer  a  clock-maker,  1  am  proud  of  it.* 
But  I  should,  indeed,  have  been  ashamed,  with  your  instruction, 
always  to  have  remained  one.  Yes,  yes  ! 

"  Whv  should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  never  brought  to  mind  I  " 

Why  ?  indeed. 

"Tain  it,"  said  Peter,  for  we  were  so  absorbed  in  listening  tc 
the  music,  we  did  not  hear  the  approach  of  the  boat,  "  ta  ting  it 
very  coot  but  it  don't  stir  up  te  blood,  and  make  you  feel  like  a 
man,  as  ta  pipes  do?  Did  she  ever  hear  barrix  an  talller?  Far. 
she  has  done  with  her  brass  cow  horn,  she  will  give  it  to  you.  It 
can  wake  the  tead  that  air.  When  she  was  a  piper  boy  to  the 
forf,  Captain  Fraisher  was  killed  by  the  fall  of  a  tree,  knocked  as 
stiff  as  a  gunparrel,  and  as  silent  too.  We  laid  her  out  on  the 
counter  in  one  of  the  stores,  and  before  we  put  her  into  the  coffin, 
the  governor  said  :  '  Peter,'  said  he,  '  she  was  always  fond  of  barrio 
an  tailler,  play  it  before  we  nail  her  up,  come  seid  stias,  (strike  up.)' 

"  Well,  she  gets  the  pipes  and  plays  it  hernainsel,  and  the  guver 
nor  forgot  his  tears,  and  seized  McPhee  by  the  hand,  and  they 
danced;  they  couldn't  help  it  when  that  air  was  played,  and  what 
do  you  think  1  It  prought  Captain  Fraisher  to  life.  First  she 
opened  her  eyes,  and  ten  her  mouth  again  wunst  more.  She  did 
upon  my  shoul." 

"  Snys  she,  '  Peter,  play  it  faster  will  you  ?  More  faster  yet,  you 
blackguard.'  And  she  tropt  the  pipes  and  ran  away,  and  it  was 
the  first  and  last  time  Peter  McDonald  ever  turned  his  pack  on  a 
friend.  The  doctor  said  it  was  a  trance,  but  he  was  a  sassanach  and 
knew  nothing  about  music ;  but  it  was  the  pipes  prought  the  tead 
to.  This  is  the  air,"  and  he  played  it  with  such  vigor  he  nearly 
grew  black  in  the  face. 

"  I  believe  it,"  says  I,  "  it  has  brought  me  to,  also.  It  has  made 
me  a  new  man,  and  brought  me  back  to  life  again.  Let  us  land 
the  moose." 

"  Ted,"  said  Peter  ;  "  she  is  worth  two  ted  men  yet.  There  is 
only  two  teaths.  Ted  as  te  tevil,  and  ted  drunk,  and  she  aint 
neither  ;  and  if  she  were  poth  she  would  wake  her  up  with  tat 
tune,  barris  an  tailler,  as  she  tid  Captain  Fraisher,  tat  she  will." 

"  Now,"  said  I,  '•  let  us  land  the  moose." 

*  This  is  the  passage  to  which  Mr.  Slick  referred  in  the  conversation  I  had 
with  him,  related  in  Chapter  I.,  entitled,  •'  A  Surprise." 


A  DAT  ON  THE  LAK«.  141) 

CHAPTER  XI. 
A  DAY  ON  THE  LAKE,  PART  II 

PETER'S  horrid  pipes  knocked  all  the  romance  out  of  me.  It  took 
all  the  talk  of  dear  old  Minister,  (whose  conversation  was  often  like 
poetry  without  rhyme,)  till  1  was  of  age,  to  instil  it  into  me.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  him  1  should  have  been  a  mere  practical  man, 
exactly  like  our  Connecticut  folks,  who  have  as  much  sentiment  in 
them,  in  a  general  way,  as  an  onion  has  of  otter  of  roses,  it's 
lucky  when  it  don't  predominate,  though,  for  when  it  does,  it  spoils 
the  relish  for  the  real  business  of  life. 

Mother,  when  1  was  a  boy,  used  to  coax  me  up  so  everlastingly 
with  loaf-cake,  1  declare  I  got  such  a  sweet  tooth  1  could  hardly  eat 
plain  bread  made  of  flour  and  corn  meal,  although  it  was  the  whole- 
somest  of  the  two.  When  I  used  to  tell  Minister  this  sometimes, 
as  he  was  flying  off  the  handle,  like  when  we  travelled  through 
New  York  state  to  Niagara,  at  the  scenery  of  the  Hudson,  or  Lake 
George,  or  that  everlastin  water-fall,  he'd  say  : 

"Sam,  you  are  as  correct  as  a  problem  in  Euclid,  but  as  cold 
and  dry.  Business  and  romance  are  like  oil  and  water  that  I  use 
for  a  night-lamp,  with  a  little  cork  dipsey.  They  oughtn't  to  be 
mixed,  but  each  to  be  separate,  or  they  spoil  each  other.  The  tum- 
bler should  be  nearly  full  of  water,  then  pour  a  little  oil  on  the 
top,  and  put  in  your  tiny  wick  and  floater,  and  ignite  it.  The 
water  goes  to  the  bottom — that's  business  you  see,  solid  and 
heavy.  The  oil  and  its  burner  lies  on  the  top,  and  that's  romance. 
li's  a  living  flame,  not  enough  to  illuminate  the  room,  but  to  cheer 
you  through  the  night,  and  if  you  want  more,  it  will  light  stronger 
ones  for  you.  People  have  a  wrong  idea  of  romance,  Sam.  Pro- 
perly understood,  it's  a  right  keen,  lively  appreciation  of  the  works 
of  nature,  and  its  beauty,  wonders,  and  sublimity.  From  thence 
we  learn  to  fear,  to  serve,  and  to  adore  Him  that  made  them  and 
us.  Now,  Sam,  you  understand  all  the  wheels,  and  pullies,  and 
balances  of  your  wooden  clocks;  but  you  don't  think  anything 
more  of  them,  than  it's  a  grand  speculation  for  you,  because  they 
cost  you  a  mere  nothing,  seeing  they  are  made  out  of  that  which 
is  as  cheap  as  dirt  here,  and  because  you  make  a  great  profit  out  • 
of  them  among  the  benighted  colonists,  who  know  little  themselves, 
and  are  governed  by  English  officials,  who  know  still  less.  Well, 
that's  nateral,  for  it  is  a  business  view  of  things.*  Now  sposen 

*  It  in  manifest  Mr  Hopcweli  must  have  had  Pa.U«y'«  illustration  in  his  mind 


150  A     DAY     OK     THE     LAKB. 

you  lived  in  the  Far  West  woods,  away  from  great  cities,  and  never 
saw  a  watch  or  a  wooden  clock  before,  and  fust  sot  your  eyes  on 
one  of  them  that  was  as  true  as  the  sun,  wouldn't  you  break  out 
into  enthusiasm  about  it,  and  then  extol  to  the  skies  the  skill  and 
knowledge  of  the  Yankee  man  that  invented  and  made  it "?  To  be 
sure  you  would.  Wouldn't  it  carry  you  off  into  contemplatin'  of 
the  planet  whose  daily  course  and  speed  it  measures  so  exact  ? 
Wouldn't  you  go  on  from  that  point  and  ask  yourself  what  must 
be  the  wisdom  and  power  of  Him  who  made  innumerable  worlds, 
and  caused  them  to  form  part  of  a  great,  grand,  magnificent,  and 
harmonious  system,  and  fly  off  the  handle,  as  \  ou  call  it,  in  admi- 
ration, and  awe  ?  To  be  sure  you  would.  And  if  anybody  said 
you  was  full  of  romance  who  heard  you,  wouldn't  \ou  have  pitied 
his  ignorance,  and  said  there  are  other  enjoyments  we  are  capable 
of  besides  corporeal  ones  ?  Wouldn't  you  be  a  wiser  and  a  better 
man  ?  Don't  you  go  now  for  to  run  down  romance,  Sam;  if  you 
do,  1  shall  think  you  don't  know  there  is  a  divinity  within  you," 
ano  so  he  would  preach  on  for  an  hour,  till  I  thought  it  was  time 
for  him  to  say  Amen,  and  give  the  dismissal  benediction. 

Well,  that's  the  way  1  came  by  it,  1  was  inoculated  for  it,  but  I 
was  always  a  hard  subject  to  inoculate.  Vaccination  was  tried  on 
me  over  and  over  again  by  the  doctor,  before  1  took  it,  but  at  last 
it  came,  and  got  into  the  system.  So  it  was  with  him  and  his 
romance,  it  was  only  the  continual  dropping  that  wore  the  stone  at 
last,  for  1  didn't  listen  as  I  ought  to  have  done.  If  he  had  showed 
me  where  I  could  have  made  a  dollar,  he  would  have  found  me 
wide  awake,  I  know,  for  1  set  out  in  life  with  a  determination  to  go 
ahead,  and  I  have  ;  and  now  1  am  well  to  do,  but  still  I  wish  1  had 
a  minded  more  what  he  did  say,  tor  poor  old  soul,  he  is  dead  now. 
An  opportunity  lout,  is  like  missing  a  passage,  another  chance  may 
never  offer  to  make  the  voyage  worthwhile.  The  firxt  wind  may 
carry  you  to  the  end.  A  yowi  start  often  wins  the  race.  To  miss 
y>ur  chance  of  a  shot,  is  to  lose  the  bird. 

How  true  these  "  saws"  of  his  are ;  but  I  don't  recollect  half  of 
them,  1  am  ashamed  to  say.  Yes,  it  took  m?  a  long  time  to  get 
romance  in  my  sails,  and  Peter  shook  it  out  of  them,  by  one  shiver 
in  the  wind.  So  we  went  to  work.  The  moose  was  left  on  shore, 
for  the  Doctor  said  he  had  another  destination  for  him  than  the 
water-fall.  Betty,  Jackson,  and  Peter  were  embarked  with  their 
baskets  and  utensils  in  the  boats  and  directed  to  prepare  our  din- 
ner. 

As  soon  as  they  were  fairly  off,  we  strolled  leisurely  back  to  the 
house,  which  I  had  hardly  time  to  examine  before"  It  was  an 
irregular  building,  made  of 'hewn  logs,  and  appeared  to  have  been 
enlarged,  from  time  to  time,  as  more  accommodation  had  be*n 
-equired.  Th^re  was  neither  uniformity  nor  design  in  it,  and  it 


A     DAT     ON     THE     LAKE.  151 

might  rathe:  be  called  a  small  cluster  of  little  tenements  than  a 
house.  Two  of  these  structures  alone,  seemed  to  correspond  in 
appeal  ance  and  size.  They  protruded  in  front,  from  each  end  of 
the  main  building,  forming  with  it  three  sides  of  a  square.  One 
of  these  wus  appropriated  to  the  purposes  of  a  museum,  and  the 
other  used  as  a  workshop.  The  former  contained  an  exceedingly 
interesting  collection. 

"This  room,"  he  said,  "I  cannot  intrust  to  Jackson,  who  would 
soon  throw  everything  into  confusion  by  grouping,  instead  of 
classifying  things.  This  country  is  full  of  most  valuable  minerals, 
and  the  people  know  as  much  about  them,  as  a  pudding  does  of 
the  plums  contained  in  it.  Observe  this  shelf,  Sir,  there  are 
.specimens  of  seven  different  kinds  of  copper  on  it ;  and  on  this 
one  fragments  of  four  kinds  of  lead.  In  the  argentiferous  galena 
is  a  very  considerable  proportion  of  silver.  Here  is  a  piece  of  a 
mineral  called  molybdena  of  singular  beauty,  I  found  it  at  Gaberons 
Bay,  in  Cape  Breton.  The  iron  ores  you  see  are  of  great  variety. 
The  coal-fields  of  this  colony  are  immense  in  extent,  and  incal- 
culable in  value.  All  this  case  is  filled  with  their  several  varieties. 
These  precious  stones  are  from  the  Bay  of  Funday.  Among  them 
are  amethyst  and  other  varieties  of  crystal,  of  quartz,  henlandite, 
stibite,  analcine,  chabasie,  albite.  mcsotype,  silicious  sinter,  and  so 
on.  Pray  do  me  the  favor  to  accept  this  amethyst.  I  have  several 
others  of  equal  size  and  beauty,  and  it  is  of  no  use  to  me." 

He  also  presented  Cutler  with  a  splendid  piece  of  nesotype  or 
needle  stone,  which  he  begged  him  to  keep  as  a  memento  of  the 
"  Bachelor  Beaver's  Dam." 

"Three  things,  Mr.  Slick,''  he  continued,  "are  necessary  to  the 
development  of  the  mineral  wealth  of  this  province — skill,  capital, 
and  population  ;  and  depend  upon  it  the  day  is  not  far  distant 
when  this  magnificent  colony  will  support  the  largest  population, 
for  its  area,  in  America." 

I  am  not  a  mineralogist  myself,  Squire,  and  much  of  what  he 
said  was  heathen  Greek  to  me,  but  some  general  things  1  could 
understand,  and  remember  such  as  that  there  are  (to  say  nothing 
of  smaller  ones)  four  immense  independent  coal-fields  in  the 
eastern  section  »f  Nova  Scotia :  namely  at  Picton,  Pomqnet, 
Cumberland,  ai.d  Londonderry  ;  the  first  of  which  covers  an  area 
of  one  hundred  square  miles,  and  that  there  are  also  at  Cape 
Breton  two  other  enormous  fields  of  the  same  mineral,  one  cover- 
ing  one  hundred  and  twenty  square  miles,  and  presenting  at  Lingan 
a  vein  eleven  feet  thick.  Sueh  facts  1  could  comprehend,  and  I 
was  sorry  when  I  heard  the  bugle  announcing  that  the  boat  had 
returned  for  us. 

"Jessie,"  said  the  Doctor,  "here  is  a  little  case  containing  a 
fashioned  and  exquisitely  worked  ring,  and  a  large  gold 


1 52  A     D  A  T     0  N     T  11  E      L  A  K  E . 

cross  and  chain,  that  1  found  while  searching  among  the  rumri  of 
t,he  nunnery  at  Lowisburir.  1  have  no  doubt  they  belonged  to  the 
superior  of  the  convent.  These  baubles  answered  her  purpose  by 
withdrawing  the  eyes  of  the  profane  from  her  care  worn  and  old 
features;  they  will  sorve  mine  also,  by  showing  how  little  you 
require  the  aid  of  art,  to  adorn  a  person  nature  has  made  so 

lovely." 

"  Hallo  ! "  sais  I  to  myself,  "  well  done,  Doctor,  if  that  don't 
beat  cock-fighting,  then  there  ain't  no  snakes  in  Varginny,  I  vow. 
Oh  !  you  ain't  so  soft  as  you  look  to  be  after  all ;  you  may  be  a 
child  of  nature,  but  that  has  its  own  secrets,  and  if  you  haint  found 
out  it's  im  steries  it's  a  pity." 

"They  have  neither  suffered,"  he  continued,  "  from  the  corrosion 
of  time  nor  the  asceticism  of  a  devotee,  who  vainly  thought  she 
was  serving  God  by  voluntarily  withdrawing  from  a  world  into 
which  he  himself  had  sent  her,  and  by  foregoing  duties  which  he 
h.id  expressly  ordained  she  should  fulfil.  Don't  start  at  the  sight 
of  the  cross  ;  it  is  the  emblem  of  Christianity,  and  not  of  a  sect,  who 
claim  it  exclusively,  as  if  lie  who  suffered  on  it,  died  fur  them 
only.  This  one  has  hitherto  been  used  in  the  negation  of  all 
human  affections,  may  it  shed  a  blessing  on  the  exercise  of  yours." 

1  could  hardly  believe  my  ears  ;  1  didn't  expect  this  of  him.  I 
Knew  he  was  romantic,  and  all  that;  but  I  did  not  think  there  was 
such  a  depth  and  strength  of  feeling  in  him. 

"1  wish,"  I  said,  "Jehu  Judd  could  a  heard  you.  Doctor,  ha 
would  have  seen  the  diff-rence  between  the  clear  grit  of  the  genuine 
thing,  and  a  counterfeit,  that  might  have  made  him  open  his  ey  '» 
and  wink." 

"Oh!  Slick,"  said  he,  "come  now,  that's  a  good  fellow,  don't 
make  me  laugh,  or  I  shall  upset  these  glass  cases  ;"  and  before 
Jessie  could  either  accept  or  decline  this  act  of  gallantry,  he 
managed  to  lead  the  way  to  the  lake.  The  girls  and  I  embarked 
in  the  can«e,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  in  the  boat,  but  before  I 
stepped  into  the  bark,  I  hid  the  pipes  of  Peter  behind  the  body  of 
the  moose,  very  much  to  the  amusement  of  Jessie  and  the  Doctor, 
who  both  seemed  to  agree  with  me  in  giving  a  preference  to  th 
bugle. 

I  never  saw  so  lovely  a  spot  in  this  country  as  the  one  we  had 
chosen  for  our  repast,  but  it  was  not  my  intention  to  land  until 
the  preparations  for  our  meal  were  all  fully  completed  ;  so  as  soon 
as  Jane  leaped  ashore,  I  took  jier  place  and  asked  Jessie  to  take 
another  look  at  the  lake  with  me.  Desiring  Jackfon  to  recal  us 
with  his  bu»le  when  required,  we  coasted  up  the  west  side  of  the 
lake  for  about  half-a-mile,  to  a  phice  where  I  hnd  observed  two 
enormous  birches  bend  over  the  water  into  which  they  were 
ultimately  doomed  ta  fall,  as  the  current  had  washed  awav  th* 


A     DAT     ON     THE     LAKE  153 

land  where  they  stood,  so  as  to  leave  them  only  a  temporary 
resting  pl.-tce.  Into  this  arched  and  quiet  retreat  we  impelled  our 
canoe,  and  paused  for  a  while  to  enjoy  its  cool  and  refreshing 
shade. 

"  Jessie,"  said  I,  "  this  time  to-morrow  I  shall  be  on  the  sea 
again." 

"So  soon?"  she  replied. 

"Yes,  dear ;  business  calls  us  away,  and  life  is  not  all  like  a  day 
on  the  lake." 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  not  to  me ;  it  is  the  only  really  happy 
one  1  have  spent  since  I  left  my  country.  You  have  all  been  so 
kind  to  me;  you,  i he  Captain,  and  the  Doctor,  all  of  you,  you 
have  made  no  difference,  you  have  treated  me  as  if  I  was  one  of 
you,  as  if  I  was  born  a  lady." 

"  Hasn't  the  Doctor  always  been  kind  to  you  V  I  said. 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  replied,  "  always  very  kind,  but  there  is  nobody 
here  like  him." 

"  He  loves  you  very  much." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  the  most  unembarrassed  and  natural  manner 
possible,  "  he  told  me  so  himself." 

"  And  can't  you  return  his  love  ?" 

"  I  do  love  him  as  I  do  my  father,  brother,  or  sister." 

"  Couldn't  you  add  the  word  husband  ?" 

"  Never,  never,"  she  said,  "  Mr  Slick.  He  thinks  he  loves  mo 
now,  but  he  may  not  think  so  always.  He  don't  see  the  red  blood 
now — he  don't  think  of  my  Indian  mother  ;  when  he  comes  nearer, 
perhaps  he  will  see  plainer.  No,  no,  half-cast  and  out-cast,  I  be- 
long to  no  race.  Shall  I  go  back  to  my  tribe  and  give  up  my 
father  and  his  people  1  they  will  not  receive  me,  and  I  must  fall 
asleep  with  my  mother.  Shall  I  stay  here  and  cling  to  him  and 
his  race — that  race  that  scorns  the  half-savage  ? — never  !  never ! 
when  he  dies,  I  shall  die  too.  I  shall  have  no  home  then  but  the 
home  of  the  spirits  of  the  dead." 

''Don't  talk  that  way,  lessie,"  I  said;  "you  make  yourself 
wretched,  because  you  don't  see  things  as  they  are.  It's  your  own 
fault  if  you  are  not  happy.  You  sa/  you  .have  enjoyed  this  day.' 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  "  no  day  like  this ;  it  never  came  before,  i 
don't  return  again.  It  dies  to-night,  but  will  never  be  forgotten." 

"Why  not  live  where  you  are'?     Why  not  have  your  horn 
here  by  this  lake,  and  this  mountain  ?     His  tastes  are  like  yours, 
and  yours  like  his;   \ou  can  live  two  lives  here — the  forest  of  the 
red  man  around  you — the  roof  of  the  white  one  above  you.     To 
unite  both  is  true  enjoyment ;  there  is  no  eye  to  stare  here,  no 
pride  to  exclude,  no  tongue  to  offend.     You  need  not  seek  the 
society  of  others,  let  tlum  solic't  yours,  and  the  Doctor  will  make 
them  respect  ,it.;!> 
V 


154  A     DAT     ON     THE     LAKE. 

It  wah  a  subject  on  which  her  mind  appeared  to  have  been  made 
up.  She  seemed  like  a  woman  that  has  lost  a  child,  who  hears 
your  advice,  and  feels  there  is  some  truth  in  it,  but  the  consolation 
reaches  not  her  heart. 

"  It  can't  be,"  she  said,  with  a  melancholy  smile,  as  if  she  was 
resigning  something  that  was  dear  to  her;  "God  or  nature  forbids 
it.  If  there  is  one  God  for  both  Indian  and  white  man,  he  forbids 
it.  If  there  are  two  great  spirits,  one  for  each,  as  my  mother  told 
me,  then  both  forbid  it.  The  great  spirit  of  the  pale  face,"  she 
continued,  "  is  a  wicked  one,  and  the  white  man  is  wicked. 
Wherever  he  goes,  he  brings  death  and  destruction.  The  woods 
recede  before  him— the  wild  fowl  leave  the  shores  —  the  fish  desert 
their  streams — the  red  man  disappears.  He  calls  his  deer  and  his 
beaver,  and  his  game,  (for  they  are  all  his,  and  were  given  to  nim 
for  food  and  for  clothing,)  and  travels  far,  far  away,  and  leaves  the 
graves  and  the  bones  of  his  people  behind  him.  But  the  white 
man  pursues  him,  day  and  night,  with  his  gun  and  his  axe  and  fire- 
water,  and  what  he  spares  with  the  rifle,  rum,  despair,  and  starva 
tion  destroy.  See,"  she  said,  and  sh<-  plucked  a  withered  red  cone 
from  a  shumack  that  wept  over  the  water  ;  "  sec,  that  is  dyed  with 
the  blood  of  the  red  man." 

"  That  is  prejudice,"  I  said. 

"No,  it  is  the  truth,"  she  replied.  "I  know  it.  My  people 
have  removed  twice,  if  not  three  times,  and  the  next  move  will  be 
to  the  sea  or  the  grave." 

"It  is  the  effect  of  civilization,  and  arts,  and  the  power  of 
sciences  and  learning  over  untutored  nature,"  I  said. 

"  If  learning  makes  men  wicked,  it  is  a  bad  thing,"  she  observed  ; 
''  for  the  devil  instructs  men  how  to  destroy.  But  rum  ain't  learn- 
ing, it  is  poison  ;  nor  is  sin  civilization,  nor  are  diseases  blessings, 
nor  madness  reason." 

"  That  don't  alter  things,"  I  said,  "  if  it  is  all  true  that  you  say, 
(and  there  is  too  much  reality  in  it.  I  fear)  ;  but  the  pale  faces  are 
not  all  bad,  nor  the  red  all  good.  It  don't  apply  to  your  case." 

"  No,"  she  said,  "nature  forbids  the  two  races  to  mingle.  That 
that  is  wild,  continues  wild  ;  and  the  tame  remains  tame.  The 
dog  watches  his  sleeping  master;  and  the  wolf  devours  him.  The 
wild  duck  scorns  confinement ;  and  the  partridge  dies  if  compelled 
to  dwell  with  domestic  fowls.  Look  at  those  birds."  she  said,  as 
she  threw  a  chip  among  a  flock  of  geese  that  were  floating  down 
the  lake ;  "  if  the  beautiful  Indian  wild  bird  consorts  with  one  of 
them,  the  progeny  die  out.  They  are  mongrels  ;  they  have  not 
the  grace,  the  shape,  or  the  courage  of  either.  Their  doom  is  fixed. 
They  soon  disappear  from  the  face  of  the  earth  and  the  waters. 
They  are  despised  by  both  breeds ;"  and  she  shook  her  head  as  if 


A     DAT     ON     THK     LAKE.  155 

she  scorned  and  loathed  herself,  and  burst  into  a  passionate  flood 
of  tears. 

"Jessie,"  said  I,  and  I  paused  a  moment,  for  I  wanted  to  give 
her  a  homoeopathic  dose  of  common  sense — and  those  little  wee 
doses  work  like  charms,  that's  a  fact.  "Jessie,"  sais  I.  and  I 
smiled,  for  I  wanted  her  to  shake  off  those  voluntary  trammels, — 
"Jessie,  the  Doctor  aint  quite  tame,  and  you  aint  quite  wild. 
You  are  both  six  of  one,  and  half-a-dozen  of  the  other,  and  just 
about  as  like  as  two  peas." 

Well,  it's  astonishing  what  that  little  sentence  did !  An  ounce 
yf  essence  is  worth  a  gallon  of  fluid.  A  wise  saw  is  more  valuable 
than  a  whole  book,  and  a  plain  truth  is  better  than  an  argument. 
She  had  no  answer  for  that.  She  had  been  reasoning  without 
knowing  it,  as  if  in  fact  she  had  been  in  reality  an  Indian.  She 
had  imbibed  in  childhood  the  feelings  of  her  mother,  who  had 
taken  the  first  step  and  repented  it— of  one  who  had  deserted  but 
had  not  been  adopted — who  became  an  exile  and  remained  an  alien 
— who  had  bartered  her  birthright  for  degradation  and  death.  It 
is  natural  that  regret  for  the  past,  and  despair  for  the  future, 
should  have  been  the  burden  of  the  mournful  ditties  of  such  a 
woman ;  that  she  who  had  mated  without  love,  and  lived  without 
affection,  the  slave,  the  drudge,  but  not  the  wife  or  companion  of 
her  master,  should  die  with  imprecations  on  her  lips  for  a  race  who 
were  the  natural  foes  of  her  people,  and  who  had  reduced  her  to 
be  an  object  of  scorn  and  contempt  to  both.  It  is  no  wonder, 
therefore,  poor  Jessie  had  a  repugnance  to  the  union,  when  she 
remembered  her  mother,  and  the  sad  lesson  her  unhappy  life  and 
fearful  death  contained.  It  was  a  feeling  difficult  to  overcome. 

"Jessie,"  sais  I,  "  nature,  instead  of  forbiddin'  it,  approves  of  it; 
for  like  takes  to  like.  I  don't  say  it  to  please  you,  but  you  are  as 
good  as  he  is,  or  any  white  man  in  the  world.  Your  forefathers, 
on  your  mother's  side,  are  a  brave,  manly,  intelligent  race ;  they 
are  free  men,  and  have  never  been  subdued  or  enslaved  by  any 
one;  and  if  they  have  degenerated  at  all,  it  is  because  they  have 
contracted,  as  you  say,  vices  from  the  white  man.  You  have 
reason  to  be  proud  of  being  descended  from  a  race  of  warriors. 
On  the  other  hand,  your  father  is  a  Highlander,  and  they  too  have 
always  been  free,  because  they  were  brave;  they  are  the  noblest 
fellows  in  Europe.  As  for  the  English,  there  are  none  now,  except 
in  Wales,  and  they  are  called  Taffies — which  means  lunatics— for 
they  are  awful  proud,  and  their  mountain-;  are  so  high,  every  fellow 
says  his  ancestors  were  descended  from  the  man  in  the  moon.  But 
the  present  race  are  a  mixture  of  Taffies,  French,  Danes,  Saxons, 
Scotch,  and  the  Lord  knows  who  ail,  and  to  my  mind  are  all  tho 
better  of  it."' 

"  But  the  color,"  said  she. 


156  A     DAY     OX     THE     LAKE, 

"  As  in  color  !  "  said  I,  "  nations  differ  in  every  shade,  from  black 
up  to  chaik-vvh'ite,  The  Portuguese,  Italians,  and  Turk?,  are  darker 
than  the  Indian,  if  anything — Spaniards  and  Greeks  about  too 
same." 

"  And  do  they  intermarry  1" 

"  I  guess  they  do  !"  said  I ;  "  the  difference  of  language  only 
stops  them  — for  it's  hard  to  make  love  when  you  can't  understand 
each  other — but  color  never." 

"  Is  that  now  really  true  ?"  she  said  ;  "  for  I  am  ignorant  of  the 
world." 

"True  as  preachin,"  said  I,  "and  as  plain  as  poverty." 

She  paused  awhile,  and  said  slowly  : 

"  We)!,  I  suppose  if  all  the  world  says  and  does  differently,  1 
must  be  wrong,  for  I  am  unacquainted  with  everything,  but  my 
own  feelings  ;  and  my  mother  taught  me  this,  and  bade  me  never 
to  trust  a  white  man.  I  am  glad  1  was  wrong,  for  if  I  feel  I  am 
right,  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  happy!" 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "I  am  sure  you  will  be  so,  and  this  is  just  the 
place,  above  all  others  in  the  world,  that  will  suit  you,  and  make 
you  so.  Now,"  sais  I,  "Jessie,  1  will  tell  you  a  story,"  and  1  told 
her  the  whole  tale  of  Pocahontas  ;  how  she  saved  Captain  Smith's 
life  ifl  the  early  settlement  of  Virginia,  and  afterwards  married 
Mr.  Rolfe,  and  visited  the  court  of  England,  where  all  the  nobles 
sought  her  society.  And  then  I  gave  her  all  the  particulars  of  her 
life,  illness,  and  death,  and  informed  her  that  her  son,  who  stood  in 
the  same  re'ationship  to  the  whites  as  she  did,  became  a  wealthy 
planter  in  Virginia,  and  that  one  of  his  descendants  lately  deceased, 
was  one  of  the  most  eloquent  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished men  in  the  United  States.  It  interested  her  uncommonly, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  greatly  contributed  to  confirm  her  in  the 
decision  she  had  come  to.  1  will  not  trouble  you,  Squire,  with  the 
story,  for  it  is  so  romantic,  I  believe  everybody  has  heard  of  it.  1 
promised  to  give  her  a  book  containing  all  the  details. 

The  bugle  now  sounded  our  recall,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were 
seated  on  the  grass,  and  enjoying  our  meal  with  an  appetite  that 
exercise,  excitement,  and  forest  air  never  fail  to  give.  Songs, 
trout-fishing,  and  stories  agreeably  occupied  the  afternoon  ;  and 
when  the  sun  began  to  ca^t  long  shadows  from  the  mountain,  we 
re-embarked  with  .,ur  traps,  and  landed  at  the  cove,  near  the  clump 
of  trees,  where  we  started  in  the  morning.  While  preparations 
were  making  for  tea  in  tta  house,  I  lit  my  cig;ir  to  take  a  stroll 
with  Cutler,  and  talk  over  our  arrangements  for  an  early  start  in 
the  morrow,  and  proceeding  immediately  to  sea.  In  the  meantime 
1  briefly  suited  to  the  Doctor  that  he  would  now  find  no  further 
obstacle  to  his  wishes,  and  counselled  him  to  lose  no  time,  whil* 


A     DAY     ON    THE      LAKE.  lOi 

the  hnpress'on  was  favorable,  to  bring  his  long-pending  negotiation 
t"  a  conclusion. 

'•Slick,"  said  he,  laughing,  "your  government  ought  to  have 
prevailed  upon  you  to  remain  in  the  diplomatic  service.  You  are 
Biu-h  a  capital  negotiator." 

'•  Well,"  said  I,  "I  believe  I  would  have  succeeded  in  that  line; 
but  do  you  know  how  '?" 

''By  a  plentiful  use  of  soft  sawder,"  said  he. 

"No,  Doctor,  I  knew  you  would  say  that;  and  it  aint  to  be 
despised  neither,'  I  can  tell  you.  No,  it's  because  you  go  coolly  to 
work,  for  you  are  negotiatin'  for  another.  If  you  don't  succeed, 
it's  the  faulf.  of  the  mission,  of  course,  and  defeat  won't  break  your 
heart;  if  you  do  carry  your  point,  why,  in  the  natur  of  things,  it 
is  all  your  own  skill.  1  have  done  famously  for  you  ;  but  1  made 
a  bungling  piece  of  business  for  myself,  J  assure  you.  What  my 
brother,  the  lawyer,  used  to  say,  is  very  true  :  '  A  man  who  pleads 
his  own  cause  has  a  fool  for  his  client.'  You  can't  praise  yourself, 
unless  it's  a  bit  of  brag,  and  that  I  can  do  as  well  as  any  one,  I  do 
suppose  ;  but  you  can't  lay  the  whitewash  on  handily  no  more  than 
you  can  brush  the  back  of  your  own  coat  when  it  is  on.  Cutler 
and  I  will  take  a  stroll,  and  do  you  invite  Jessie  out,  to  see  the 
moon  on  the  lake." 

In  about  an  hour,  Peter,  who  had  found  his  pipes,  to  his  infinite 
delight,  intimated  supper  was  ready  ;  and  the  dispersed  groups 
returned,  and  sat  down  to  a  meal  which,  in  addition  to  the  tea  and 
coffee,  and  its  usual  accompaniments  at  country-houses,  had  some 
substantial  viands  for  those, 'like  myself,  who  had  done  more  talk- 
ing than  eating  at  dinner.  In  a  short  time,  the  girls  retired  f<»r 
the  night,  and  we  arranged  for  a  peep  of  day  return. 

"  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  Doctor,  "'  I  have  ordered  the  boy  to  take 
the  moose  down  to  the  village,  as  my  share  of  the  sea  stores.  Will 
you  give  me  leave  to  go  a  part  of  the  cruise  with  you  !" 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  said  I  ;  "  it's  just  what  I  was  going  to 
ask  the  favor  of  you  to  do.  It's  the  very  identical  thing." 

"  Come,  Peter,"  said  he,  "  1  will  show  you  where  to  turn  in;" 
and  returning,  in  a  few  minutes,  with  Jackson,  desired  him  to  attend 
the  Captain. 

When  we  were  alone,  he  said  : 

"Come  this  way,  Mr.  Slick.  Put  your  hat  on — I  want  you  to 
take  a  turn  with  me.". 

And  leading  me  down  to  the  verge  of  the  woods,  where  I  saw  a 
light,  we  entered  a  large  bark  wigwam,  where  he  said  he  often  slept 
during  the  hot  weather. 

it  was  not  made  in  the  usual  conical  form,  but  resembled  a  square 
tent,  M  hich,  among  Indians,  generally  indicates  there  is  a  large 
£u»i!y.  aud  that  they  propose  to  occupy  the  same  spot  for  som» 


158  THE     BETROTHAL. 

lime.  In  fact,  it  was  half  wigwam,  half  summer-house,  leset.ibling 
the  former  in  appearance,  construction,  and  material  ;  but  was 
floored  on  account  of  the  damp  ground,  and  contained  a  small  table, 
two  chairs,  and  a  couple  of  rustic  seats,  large  enough  to  sleep 
upon,  which,  on  the  present  occasion,  had  hunters'  beds  on  tht-iu. 
The  tent,  or  more  properly  camp,  as  it  is  generally  called  here,  was 
so  contrived  as  to  admit  of  the  door  being  shifted  according  to  the 
wind.  On  the  present  occasion,  the  opening  was  towards  the  lake, 
on  which  the  moon  was  casting  its  silver  light. 

Here  we  sat  till  a  late  hour,  discoursing,  over  our  cigars,  on  a 
variety  of  subjects,  the  first  and  last  of  which  topic  was  Jessie, 
who  had,  it  appeared,  at  last  accepted  the  Bachelor  Beaver.  Alto- 
gether, it  was  a  charming  visit;  and  left  a  most  agreeable  recollec- 
of  the  enjoyment  that  is  to  be  found  in  "a  day  and  a  niyhl  in  the 
the  woods" 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THE   BETROTHAL 

EARLY  the  following  morning,  just  as  the  first  dawn  of  day  was 
streaking  the  eastern  sky  Jackson's  bugle  sounded  the  rereilte,  and 
we  were  all  soon  on  foot  and  in  motion.  The  moose  was  lifted  into 
the  cart,  and  the  boy  dispatched  with  it  to  the  harbor,  so  as  to  have 
it  in  readiness  for  putt  ng  on  board  as  soon  as  we  should  arrive, 
and  a  cup  of  coffee  was  prepared  to?"  us  by  Betty,  as  she  said,  to 
keep  the  cold  out  of  our  stomach  while  travelling.  The  Doctor 
had  some  few  arrangements  to  make  for  his  voyage,  and  Cutler  and 
I  set  out  in  advance,  on  foot.  It  was  agreed  that  Ovey,  Peter,  and 
his  daughters,  should  follow,  as  soon  as  possible,  in  the  waggons, 
and  breakfast  with  us  on  board  of  the  Biack  Hawk. 

•'  Mr.  Jackson,"  said  I,  as  I  saw  him  standing  at  the  door. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  and  he  was  at  my  side  in  a  minute,  and  honored  me, 
with  one  of  his  most  gracious  smiles,  and  respectful  military  salutes. 

There  is  gnat  magic  in  that  word  Mr.,  when  used  to  men  of  low 
degree,  and  in  "Squire"  for  those  just  a  notch  higher.  Servitude, 
at  best,  is  but  a  hard  lot.  To  surrender  your  will  to  another,  to 
come  and  go  at  his  bidding,  and  to  answer  a  bell  as  a  dog  does  a 
whistle,  aint  just  the  lot  one  would  choose,  if  a  better  one  offered. 
A  master  may  forget  this,  a  servant  never  does.  The  great  art,  as 
well  as  one  of  the  great  Christian  duties,  therefore,  is  not  to  mak»? 
him  feel  it.  Bidding  is  one  thing,  and  commanding  is  another.  If 
you  put  him  on  good  terms  with  himself,  he  is  on  good  terms  with 


THE     BETROTHAL.  159 

you,  and  affection  is  a  stronger  tie  lhan  duty.  The  vanity  of  man- 
kind is  such,  that  you  always  have  the  ingratitude  of  helps  dinned 
into  your  ears,  fmm  one  year's  end  to  another,  and  yet  these  folk 
never  heard  of  the  ingratitude  of  employers,  and  wouldn't  believe 
there  was  such  a  thing  in  the  world,  if  you  were  to  tell  them.  Un 
?rateful,  eh!  Why,  didn't  I  p;iy  him  his  wages?  wasn't  he  well 
>oarded?  and  didn't  I  now  and  then  let  him  go  to  a  frolic?  Yes, 
lie  wouldn't  have  worked  without  pay.  He  couldn't  have  lived  if 
ie  hadn't  been  fed,  and  he  wouldn't  have  staid  if  you  hadn't  given  him 
recreation  now  and  then.  It's  a  poor  heart  that  don't  rejoice  some- 
times. So  much  thanks  he  owes  you.  Do  you  pray  that  it  may 
always  rain  at  night  or  on  Sundays?  Do  you  think  the  Lord  is 
the  Lord  of  masters  only  ?  But  he  has  been  faithful,  as  well  as 
diligent,  and  careful  as  well  as  laborious,  he  has  saved  you  more 
than  his  wages  came  to — are  there  no  thanks  for  this?  Pooh!  )ou 
remind  me  of  my  poor  old  mother.  Father  used  to  say  she  was 
the  most  unreasonable  woman  in  the  world — for  when  she  hired  a 
gall,  she  expected  perfection,  for  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  month. 

Mr.  Jackson !  didn't  that  make  him  feelgood  all  over?  Why 
shouldn't  he  be  called  Mr.,  as  well  as  that  selfish  conceited  McClure, 
Captain  ?  "  Yes,"  there  is  a  great  charm  in  that  are  word,  Mr.  It 
was  a  wrinkle  I  picked  up  by  accident,  very  early  in  life.  We  had 
to  our  farm  to  Slickville,  an  Irish  servant,  called  Paddy  Monahan 
— as  hard-working  a  critter  as  ever  I  see,  but  none  of  the  boys 
could  get  him  to  do  a  blessed  thing  for  them.  He'd  do  his  plowin' 
or  reapin,  or  whatever  it  was,  but  the  deuce  a  bit  would  he  leave  it 
to  oblige  Sally  or  the  boys,  or  any  one  else,  but  father;  he  had  to 
mind  him,  in  course,  or  put  his  three  gnjat  coats  on,  the  way  he 
came,  one  atop  of  the  other,  to  cover  the  holes  of  the  inrter  ones, 
and  walk.  But,  as  for  me,  he'd  do  anythin  1  wanted.  He'd  drop 
his  spade,  and  help  me  catch  a  horse,  or  he'd  do  my  chores  for  me, 
and  let  me  go  and  attend  my  rnink  and  musquash  traps,  or  he'd 
throw  down  his  hoe  and  go  and  fetch  the  cows  from  pasture,  that  I 
might  slick  up  for  a  party — in  short  he'd  do  anything  in  the  world 
for  me. 

"  Well,  they  all  wondered  how  under  the  sun  Paddy  had  taken 
such  a  shindy  to  me,  when  nobody  else  could  get  him  to  budge  an 
inch  for  them.  At  last,  one  day,  mother  asked  ^me  how  on  airth  it 
wras — for  nothin  strange  goes  on  long,  but  a  woman  likes  to  get  at 
the  bottom  of  it. 

"  Well."  sais  I,  "mother,  if  you  won't  whisper  a  syllable  to  any 
body  about  it,  I'll  tell  you." 

"  Who,  me,"  sais,  she  "  Sammy  ?"  She  always  called  me  Sammy 
when  she  wanted  to  come  over  me.  "Me  tell?  A  person  who 
can  keep  her  own  secrets,  can  keep  yours,  Sammy.  There  artf 
some  things  1  never  told  your  father." 


1(30  THE     BETROTHAL. 

"  Such  as  what,"  sais  I  ? 

"  A-hem,"  said  she.  "  A-hem — such  as  he  oughtn't  to  know, 
dear.  Whv,  Sam  I  am  as  secret  as  the  grave  !  How  is  it,  dear?'1 

"  Well,"  sais  1,  "1  will  tell  you.  This  is  the  way  :  1  drop  Pat 
and  Paddv  altogether,  and  1  call  him  Mr.  Monaghan,  and  never  say 
a  word  about  the  priest." 

"  Why,  Sammy,"  said  she,  "  where  in  the  world  did  you  pick  up 
all  your  cuteness.  1  do  declare  you  are  as  sharp  as  a  needle. 
Well,  1  never.  How  you  do  take  after  me!  boys  are  mother's 
sons.  It's  only  the  galls  who  take  after  their  father  " 

It's  cheap  coin,  is  civility,  and  kindness  is  a  nice  bank  to  fund  it 
in,  Squire :  for  it  comes  back  with  compound  interest.  lie  used 
to  call  Josiah,  Jo,  and  brother  Eldad,  Dad,  and  then  yoke  'em  both 
together,- as  "  spalpeens,"  or  rapscallions."  and  he'd  vex  them  by- 
calling  mother,  when  he  spoke  to  them  of  her,  the  "  ould  woman,'' 
and  Sally,  ''  that  young  cratur,  Sal'.'  But  he'd  show  the  difference 
when  he  mentioned  me ;  it  was  always  "  the  young  master,"  and 
*hen  I  was  \\ith  him,  it  was  "your  honor." 

Lord,  I  shall  never  forget  wunst,  when  I  was  a  practisin  of  ball- 
shooting  at  a  target,  Pat  brought  out  one  of  my  muskits,  and,  sais 
ne  :  "  Would  your  honor  just  let  nie  take  a  crack  at  it.  You  only 
make  a  little  round  hole  in  it,  about  the  size  of  a  fly's  eye  ;  but,  by 
the  piper  that  played  before  Moses.  I'll  knock  it  all  to  smithereens." 

"Yes,"  sais  I,  •'  Mr.  Monaghan  ;   fire  and  welcome.'' 

Well,  up  he  comes  to  the  toe-line,  and  puts  himself  into  attitude, 
scientific  like.  First  he  throws  his  left  leg  out,  and  then  biaces 
back  the.  right  one  well  behind  him,  and  then  he  shuts  his  left  eye 
to,  and  makes  an  awful  wry  face,  as  if  he  was  determined  to  keep 
every  Kit  of  light  out  of  it,  and  then  he  brought  his  gun  up  to  the 
shoulder  with  a  deuce  of  a  flourish,  and  took  a  long,  steady  aim. 
All  at  once  he  lowered  the  piece. 

"  I  think  I'll  do  it  better  knalin,  your  honor,"  said  he,  "  the.  way 
]  did  when  I  fired  at  Lord  Blarney's  land-agent,  from  behind  the 
hedge,  for  lettin  a  firm  to  a  Belfast  heretic.  Oh  !  didn't  1  riddle 
him,  your  honor."  He  paused  a  moment,  his  tongue  had  run  away 
with  him.  "  His  coat,  1  main,"  said  he.  "  I  cut  the  skirts  off  as 
nait  as  a  tailor  could.  It  scared  him  entirely,  so,  when  he  see  the 
feathers  fly  in  that  way,  he  took  to  flight,  and  I  never  sot  eyes  on 
him  no  more.  1  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  is  runnin  yet." 

So  he  put  down  one  knee  on  the  ground,  and  adjusting  himself 
?aid,  "  1  won't  leave  so  much  as  a  hair  of  that  target,  to  teli  where 
it  stood."  He  took  a  fresh  aim,  and  fired,  and  away  he  went,  heels 
over  head,  the  matter  of  three  or  four  times,  and  the  gun  flew  away 
behind  him,  ever  so  far. 

"  Oh  !  "  sais  he,  "  I  am  kilt  entirely.  I  am  a  dead  man,  Mastei 
Sam.  By  the  holy  poker,  but  my  arm  is  broke," 


THE     BETROTHAL.  161 

11  I  am  afraid  my  gun  is  broke,"  said  I,  and  off  I  set  in  search 
of  it. 

•'Stop,  yer  honor,"  said  he,  "for  the  love  of  Heaven,  stop,  or 
«;herll  be  the  death  of  you." 

"What?"  sais  I. 

"There  are  five  more  shots  in  her  yet,  Sir.  I  put  in  six  cart- 
ridges, so  as  to  make  sure  of  that  paper  kite,  and  only  one  of  them 
is  gone  off  yet.  "Oh!  my  shoulder  is  out,  Master  Sam.  Don't 
say  a  word  of  it,  Sir,  to  the  ould  cratur,  and  — " 

"  To  who !  "  said  I. 

"To  her  ladyship,  the  mistress,"  said  he,  "  and  I'll  sarve  you  by 
day  and  by  night.'' 

Poor  Pat!  you  were  a  good-hearted  creature  naturally,  as  most 
of  your  countrymen  are,  if  repealers,  patriots  and  demagogues  of 
all  sorts  and  sizes,  would  only  let  you  alone.  Yes,  there  is  a  great 
charm  in  that  word  "  Mr." 

So,  sais  I,  '•  Mr.  Jackson  !  " 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  he.     "  Let  me  look  at  your  bugle." 

"  Here  it  is,  your  honor." 

"  What  a  curious  lookin  thing  it  is,*1  sais  I,  "and  what's  all  them 
little  button-like  things  on  it  with  long  shanks] " 

'•  Keys,  Sir,"  said  he. 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I,  '•  they  unlock  the  music,  I  suppose,  don't  they, 
and  let  it  out?  Let  me  see  if  I  could  blow  it." 

"Try  the  pipes,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Peter.  ''Tat  is  nothin  but  a 
prass  cowhorn  as  compared  to  the  bagpipes." 

"  No  thank  you,"  sais  I,  "  it's  only  a  Highlander  can  make  music 
out  of  that." 

"  She  never  said  a  wiser  word  tan  tat,"  he  replied,  much  grati- 
fied. 

'•  Now,"  sais  I,  "  let  me  blow  this,  does  it  take  much  wind  ?  " 

"  No."  said  Jackson,  "  not  much,  try  it  Sir." 

Well,  I  put  it  to  my  lips,  and  played  a  well  known  air  on  it. 
"  It's  not  hard  to  play,  after  all,  is  it,  Jackson  ?  " 
'    "  No,  Sir,"  said  he,  looking  delighted,    "  nothing  is  hard  to  a 
man  as  knows  how,  as  you  do." 

'•  Tom,"  sais  Betty,  •'  dont't  that  do'ee  good  1  Oh,  Sir,  I  ain't 
eard  that  since  I  left  the  hold  country,  it's  what  the  guards  has 
used  to  be  played  in  the  maiUcoaches  has  was.  Oh,  Sir,  when 
thev  coined  to  the  town,  it  used  to  sound  pretty ;  many's  the  time 
I  have  run  to  the  window  to  listen  to  it.  Oh.  the  coaches  was  a 
pretty  sight,  Sir.  But  them  times  is  all  gone,"  and  she  wiped  a 
tear  from  her  eye  with  the  corner  of  her  apron, — a  tear  that  the 
recollection  of  early  days,  had  called  up  from  the  fountain  of  her 
heart. 

Oh.  what  a  v<>lum°.  does  one  stray  thought,  of  the  past  contain 


162  THE     BETROTHAL 

within  itself.  It  is  like  a  rocket  thrown  up  in  the  night.  It  sud- 
denly expands  into  a  brilliant  light,  and  sheds  a  thousand  sparkling 
meteors,  that  scatter  in  all  directions,  as  if  inviting  attention  each 
to  its  own  train.  Yes,  that  one  thought  is  the  centre  of  many,  and 
awakens  them  all  to  painful  sensibility.  Perhaps  it  is  more  like  a 
vivid  flash  of  lightning,  it  discloses  with  intense  brightness  the 
whole  landscape,  and  exhibits  in  their  minutest  form  and  outline, 
the  very  leaves  and  flowers,  that  lie  hid  in  the  darkness  of  night. 

"Jessie,"  said  I,  "will  you  imitate  it?" 

I  stopt  to  gaze  on  her  for  a  moment — she  stood  in  the  doorway — 
a  perfect  model  for  a  sculptor.  But  oh,  what  chisel  could  do  jus 
tice  to  that  face — it  was  a  study  for  a  painter.  Her  whole  soXil 
was  filled  with  those  clear  beautiful  notes,  that  vibrated  through 
the  frame,  and  attuned  every  nerve,  till  it  was  in  harmony  with  it. 
She  was  so  wrapt  in  admiration,  she  didn't  notice  what  I  observed, 
for  I  try  in  a  general  way  that  nothing  shall  escape  me;  but  as 
they  were  behind  us  all,  I  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Doctor  (as 
I  turned  my  head  suddenly)  withdrawing  his  arm  from  her  waist. 
She  didn't  know  it  of  course,  she.  was  so  absorbed  in  the  music.  It 
ain't  likely  she  felt  him,  ;md  if  she  had.  it  ain't  probable  she  would 
have  objected  to  it.  It  was  natural  he  should  like  to  press  the 
heart  she  had  given  him  ;  wasn't  it  now  his  ?  and  wasn't  it  reason- 
able he  should  like  to  know  how  it  beat?  He  was  a  doctor,  and 
doctors  like  to  feel  pulses,  it  comes  sorter  habitual  to  them,  they 
can't  help  it.  They  touch  your  wiist  without  knowing  it,  and  if  it 
is  a  woman's,  why  their  hand  like  brother  Josiah's  cases  that  went 
on  all  fours,  crawls  up  on  its  fingers,  till  it  gets  to  where  the  best 
pulse  of  all  is.  Ah,  Doctor,  there  is  Highland  blood  in  that  heart, 
and  it  will  beat  warmly  towards  you,  I  know.  I  wonder  what 
Peter  would  have  said,  if  he  had  "seen  what  1  did.  But  then  he 
didn't  know  nothin'  about  pulses. 

"Jessie,"  said  I,  "imitate  that  for  me,  dear.  It  is  the  last  exer- 
cise of  that  extraordinary  power  I  shall  eve'-  hear." 

"Play  it  again,"  she  said,  "  that  I  may  catch  the  air." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  you  didn't  hear  it  after  all  ? 
It  is  the  first  time  your  little  heart  was  ever  pressed  before,  per. 
haps  it  beat  so  loud  you  couldn't  distinguish  'he  bugle  notes.  Was 
it  the  new  emotion  or  the  new  music  that  absorbed  you  so  ?  Oh 
Jessie,  don't  ask  me  again  what  natur'  is." 

Well,  I  played  it  again  for  her,  and  instantly  she  gave  the  repe 
tition  with  a  clearness,  sweetness,  and  accuracy,  that  was  perfectly 
anting.  Cutler  and  I  then  took  leave  for  the  present,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  our  wav  to  the  shore. 

"Ah,  Sir !  "  said  Jackson,  who  accompanied  us  to  the  bars,  "  it's 
a  long  while  ago  since,  I  card  that  hair.  Warn't  them  mail-coaches 
p-etty  things,  Sit  ?  Hon  the  hold  King's  birthday,  Sir,  when  they 


THK     BETROTHAL.  163 

all  turned  out  with  new,  arness  and  coaches  fresh  painted,  and 
coachman  and  gu.-ird  in  new  toggery,  and  four  as  beautiful  bits  of 
blood  'o  each  on  'ern  as  was  to  be  found  in  England,  warn't  it  a 
sigiit  to  behold,  Sir?  The  world  could  show  nothin'  like  it,  Sir. 
And  to  think  they  are  past  and  gone,  it  makes  one's  'eart  hache. 
They  tells  me  the  coachman  now,  Sir,  has  a  dirty  black  face,  and 
rides  on  a  fender  before  a  large  grate,  and  flourishes  a  red  'ot  poker 
instead  of  a  whip.  -The  guard,  Sir,  they  tells  me,  is  no — — " 

"  Good  bye,  Mr.  Jackson ;"  and  I  shook  hands  with  him. 

"  Isn't  that  too  bad,  Sir,  now  1 "  he  said.  "  Why,  here  is  Betty 
again,  Sir,  with  that  d — d  'at,  and  a  lecture  about  the  stroke.  Good 
bye  your  honor,"  said  he. 

When  we  came  to  the  bridge  where  the  road  curved  into  the 
woods,  1  turned  and  took  a  last  look  at  the  place  where  I  had  spent 
such  an  agreeable  day. 

1  don't  envy  you  it,  Doctor,  but  I  wish  I  had  such  a  lovely 
place  at  Slickville  as  that.  What  do  you  think,  Sophy,  eh  ?  I 
have  an  idea  you  and  I  could  be  very  happy  there,  don't  you  ? 

"Oh!  Mr.  Slick."  said  Jehu  Judd,  who  was  the  first  person  I 
saw  at  the  door  of  Peter's  house,  •'  what  an  everlastin'  long  day 
was  yesterda*  !  1  did  nothing  but  renew  the  poultice,  look  in  the 
glass,  and  turn  into  bed  again.  It's  off  now,  ain't  it]" 

"  Yes,"  sais  I.  "and  we  are  off,  too.  in  no  time." 

"  But  the  trade."  sais  he  ;  "let's  talk  that  over." 

"  Haven't  time,"  sais  1 ;  "it  must  be  short  motor,  as  you  say 
when  you  are  to  home  to  Quaco,  practising  Sail  Mody  (as  you  call 
it)  mackarel  is  five  dollars  a  barrel,  sains  thirty — say  ye^  or  no, 
that's  the  word." 

'•'  How  can  you  have  the  conscience  ?"  said  he. 

"  I  never  talk  of  conscience  in  trade,"  sais  1 ;  "  only  of  prices. 
Bargain  or  no  bargain,  that's  the  ticket." 

"  I  can't,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  then,  there  is  an-  end  of  it,"  says  I.  "  Good  by  ,  friend 
Judd." 

Sais  he  :  "  You  have  a  mighty  short  way  with  you,  my  friend." 

"  A  short  way  is  better  than  a  long  face,"  said  1. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  4i  I  can't  do  without  the  sains  (nets)  no  how 
can  fix  it,  so  I  suppose  I  must  give  the  price.     But  I  hope  1  may 
be  skinned  alive,  if  you  ain't  too  keen." 

"  Whoever  takes  a  fancy  to  skin  you,  whether  dead  or  alive, 
will  have  a  tough  job  of  it,  I  reckon,"  sais  I,  "  it's  as  tight  as  the 
bark  of  a  tree.'' 

"  For  two  pins,"  said  he,  "  I'd  tan  your  hide  for  you  now," 
said  he. 

"Ah,"  said  I,  "  you  are  usin'  your  sain  before  you  pay  for  it. 
That's  not  fair." 


IfJ-t  THE     BKTKOTHAL. 

"  Why  V'  said  he. 

"  Because,"  sais  1,  "  you  are  in. fane  to  talk  that  way.1* 

"Well,  well,"  said  he,  "you  do  beat  the  devil." 

"  You  can't  say  that,"  snis  I,  "  for  I  hain't  laid  a  hand  on  yoa 
Come,"  sais  I,  "  wake  snakes,  and  push  off  with  the  captain,  and 
get  the  fish  on  board.  Cutler,  tell  the  mate,  macarel  is  five 
dollars  the  barrel,  and  nets  thirty  each.  We  shall  join  you 
presently,  and  so  friend  Judd,  you  had  better  put  the  licks  in,  and 
make  haste,  or  there  will  be  'more  fiddling  and  dancing  and  serving 
the  devil  this  morning.'  " 

He  turned  round,  and  gave  me  a  look  of  intense  hatred,  and 
shook  his  fist  at  me.  I  took  off  my  hat  and  made  him  a  low  bow, 
and  said,  "that's  right,  save  your  breath,  to  cool  your  broth  or  to 
groan  with  when  you  get  home,  and  have  a  refreshing  time  with 
the  Come-outers. 

"  My  father  was  a  preacher. 

A  mighty  holy  man  ; 
My  mother  was  a  Methodist. 
But  I'm  a  Tunyan." 

lie  became  as  pale  as  a  mad  nigger  at  this.  Tie  was  quite 
speechless  with  rage,  and  turning  from  me,  said  nothing,  and 
proceeded  with  the  Captain  to  the  boat.  It  was  some  time  before 
the  party  returned  from  the  lake,  but  the  two  waggons  were  far 
apart,  and  Jessie  and  the  Doctor  came  last — was  it  that  the  road 
was  bad,  and  he  was  a  poor  driver  ?  perhaps  so.  A  man  who 
loves  the  woods,  don't  know  or  care  much  about  roads.  It  don't 
follow  because  a  feller  is  a  good  shot,  he  is  a  good  whip  ;  or 
was  it  they  had  so  much  to  say,  the  short  distance  didn't  afford 
time.  Well,  I  ain't  experienced  in  these  matters,  though  perhaps 
you  are,  Squire.  Still  though  Cupid  is  represented  with  bows  and 
arrows,  (and  how  many  1  have  painted  on  my  clocks,  for  they 
always  sold  the  best.)  I  don't  think  he  was  ever  sketched  in  an  old 
onehoss  waggon.  A  canoe  would  have  suited  you  both  better,  you 
would  have  been  more  at  home  there.  If  I  was  a  gall  I  would 
always  be  courted  in  one^for  you  can't  romp  there,  or  you  would 
be  capsized.  It.'s  the  safest  place  I  know  of.  It's  very 'well  to  be 
over  head  and  ears  in  love,  but  my  eyes,  to  be  over  head  and  ears  in 
the  water,  is  no  place  for  love  making,  unless  it  is  for  young  whales, 
and  even  they  spout  and  blow  like  "all  wraih,  when  they  come  up, 
as  if  you  might  have  too  much  of  a  good  thing,  don't  they  ?" 

They  both  looked  happy — Jessie  was  unsophisticated,  and  her 
countenance,  when  it  turned  on  me,  seemed  to  say,  "  Mr.  Slick,  I 
have  taken  your  advice,  and  I  am  delighted  1  "did."  And  the 
]>octor  looked  happy,  but  his  face  ^emed  to  say,  come  ra>w 
Slick,  no  nonsense,  please.-.,  let  me  alone,  '.hat's  a  good"  fellow." 


THE     BETROTHAL.  166 

Peter  perceived  something  he  didn't  understand.  He  had  seen 
a  great  deal  he  didn't  comprehend  since  he  left  the  Highlands,  and 
heard  a  great  many  things  he  didn't  know  the  meaning  of.  It  was 
enough  for  him  if  he  could  guess  it. 

"  Toctor,"  said  he,  u  how  many  kind  o'  partridges  are  there  in 
(his  country  ?" 

"  Two,''  said  the  simple-minded  naturalist,  "  spruce  and  birch." 

"  Which  is  the  prettiest  ]" 

"The  birch." 

"  And  the  smartest?'1 

"The  birch." 

"  Both  love  to  live  in  the  woods,  don't  they  ?" 

«  Yes." 

•'  Well  there  is  a  difference  in  color  Ta  spruce  is  red  flesh,  and 
u»  birch  white,  did  you  ever  know  them  mix  ?" 

*•  Olten,"  said  the  Doctor,  who  began  to  understand  this  allego- 
rical t«ilk  of  the  North- West  trader,  and  feel  uncomfortable,  and 
there!  re  didn't  like  to  say  no.  "Well,  then,  the  spruce  must  stay 
with  the  pirch,  or  the  pirch  live  with  the  spruce,''  continued  Peter. 
"  The  peech  wood  between  the  two  are  dangerous  to  both,  for  its 
only  fit  for  cuckooes." 

Peter  looked  chuffy  and  sulky.  There  was  no  minister  at  the 
remote  post  he  had  belonged  to  in  the  nor-west.  The  governor 
there  read  a  sermon  of  a  Sunday  sometimes,  but  he  oftener  wrote 
letters.  The  marriages,  when  contracted,  were  generally  limited 
to  the  period  of  service  of  the  employes,  and  sometimes  a  wife  was 
bought,  or  at  others,  entrapped  like  a  beaver.  It  was  a  civil  or 
uncivil  (fontract  as  the  case  might  be.  Wooing  was  a  thing  he 
didn't  understand  ;  for  what  right  had  a  woman  to  an  opinion  of 
her  own  ?  Jessie  felt  for  her  father,  the  Doctor,  and  herself,  and 
retired  crying.  The  Doctor  said  : 

"  Peter,  y«>u  know  me — I  am  an  honest  man ;  give  me  your 
confidence,  and  then  I  will  ask  the  Chief  for  the  hand  of  his 
daughter." 

'•  Tat  is  like  herself,"  said  Peter.  "  And  she  never  doubted  hor ; 
an<i  there  is  her  hand,  which  is  her  word.  Tarn  the  coffee  !  let  us 
have  a  glass  of  whiskey." 

And  he  poured  out  three,  and  we  severally  drank  to  each  other's 
health,  and  peace  was  once  more  restored. 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  now  is  the  time  to  settle  this  affair;  for  the 
Doctor,  Peter,  and  Jessie  are  all  like  children  ;  it's  right  to  show 
'em  how  to  act. 

"  ]  >octor,"  sais  I,  ':ju-t  see  if  the  cart  with  the  moose  has 
arrived  ;  we  must  be  a  moving  soon,  for  the  wind  is  fair." 

As  soon  as  he  went  on  this  errand,  "  Peter,"  sais  I,  "  the  Doctor 
wants-  to  marry  yo;  r  daughter,  and  she,  I  think,  is  not  unwilling, 


106  I'HE     BETROTHAL. 

though,  between  you  and  me,  you  know  better  than  she  does  what 
is  good  for  her.  Now  the  Doctor  don't  know  as  much  of  the 
world  as  you  do.  lie  has  never  seen  Scotland,  nor  the  northwest, 
nor  travelled  as  you  have,  and  observed  so  much." 

'•She  never  said  a  truer  word  in  her  life,"  said  Peter.  "She  has 
seen  the  Shetlands  and  the  Rocky  Mountains — the  two  finest  places 
in  the  world,  and  crossed  the  sea  and  the  lied  River ;  pesides 
Canada  and  Nova  Scotia,  and  seen  French,  and  pairs,  and  Indians 
and  wolves,  and  plue  noses  and  puffaloes,  and  Yankees  and  prairio 
dogs,  and  Highland  chief",  and  Indian  chiefs,  and  other  great  shen- 
tlemen,  pesides  peavers  with  their  tails  on.  She  has  seen  the  pest 
part  of  the  world,  Mr.  Siick."  And  he  lighted  his  pipe  in  his  en 
thusiasm,  when  enumerating  what  he  had  seen,  and  looked  as  if  he 
felt  good  all  over. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "the  Doctor,  like  an  honorable  man,  has  asked 
Squire  Peter  McDonald  for  his  daughter  ;  now,  when  he  comes  in, 
call  Jessie  and  place  her  hand  in  his,  and  say  you  consent,  and  let 
the  spruce  and  i  irch  partridge  go  and  live  near  the  lake  together." 

"  Tat  she  will, '  said  he,  "for  ta  Toctor  is  ashentleman  pred  and 
porn,  though  she  hasn't  the  honor  to  be  a  highlander." 

As  soon  as  the  Bachelor  Beaver  returned,  Peter  went  on  this 
paternal  mission,  for  which  1  pivparcd  my  friend  ;  and  the  betrothal 
was  duly  performed,  when  he  said  in  Gaelic: 

"  Dhia  Beaiumich  sibh  le  choile,  mo  r/ilam  !  God  bless  you  both, 
my  children  !" 

As  soon  as  the  ceremony  was  over,  "Now,"  sais  I,  "  we  must 
be  a  movin'.  Come,  Peter,  k-t  us  go  on>  board.  Where  are  the 
pipes  1  Strike  up  your  merriest  tune." 

And  he  preceded  us.  playing,  "  Nack  dainbsadlt  urn  minster."  in 
his  best  manner— if  anything  can  be  said  to  be  good,  where  bad  is 
the  best.  When  we  arrived  at  the  beach,  Cutler  and  my  old 
friend,  the  black  steward,  were  ready  to  receive  us.  It  would  have 
been  a  bad  omen,  to  have  had  Sorrow  meet  the  betrothed  pair  so 
soon,  but  that  was  only  a  jocular  name  given  to  a  very  merry 
negro. 

"  Well,  Sorrow,"  sais  I,  as  we  pushed  off  in  the  boat,  "  how  are 
you  ?" 

•'  Very  bad,  Massa,"  he  said  ;  "  I  ab  been  used  most  redicul-.ua 
snamlul  since  you  left.  Time  was  berry  dull  on  board  since  \  ou 
been  withdrawn  from  de  light  ob  your  countenance,  and  de  crew 
sent  on  shore,  and  got  a  consignment  ob  rum.  for  benefit  ob  under 
writers  and  all  consarned,  as  dey  said,  and  cley  sung  hvmns,asde> 
call  mgga  songs,  like  Lucy  Neal  and  Lucy  Lonir,  and  den  dey  said 
we  must  nab  ablution  sarmon  ;  so  dey  fust  corned  me,  Massa." 

^  In  the  beef  or  pork-barrel,  Sorrow  ?"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  Lord  bless  yuu,  Massa,  in  needer  j  you  knows  de  meaning 


THE     BETROTIAL.  167 

ab  dat  are  word — I  is  sure  you  does — dey  made  rne  most  tosicated, 
Massa,  and  dey  said,  'Sorrow,  come  preach  ablution  sarmon  ' 
Ob,  Massa,  1  was  berry  sorry,  it  made  me  feel  all  ober  like  aguej 
but  how  could  1  insist  so  many  ?  what  was  I  to  do?  dey  fust  made 
me  der  slave,  and  den  said,  'now  tell  us  'boat  'mancipation.' 
Well,  dev  gub  me  glass  ob  rum,  and  1  swallowed  it  — ben y  bad 
rum  — well,  dat  wouldn't  do.  Well,  den  dey  gul>  me  ano  ier  glass, 
and  dat  wouldn't  do  ;  dis  here  child  hab  trong  head,  Massa,  werry 
trong,  but  he  hoped  de  rum  was  all  out,  it  was  so  bad ;  den  dey 
rejecticned  anoder  in  my  face,  and  I  paused  and  crastimated  :  sais 
1,  'Masters,  is  you  done?'  for  dis  child  was  afeard,  Massa,  if  he 
drank  all  de  bottle  empty,  dey  would  tro  dat  in  his  face  too,  so 
sais  1  : 

" '  Masters,  I  preaches  under  protest,  against  owners  and  ship  for 
bandonmen  ;  but  if  J  must  put  to  sea,  and  dis  nigga  don't  know- 
how  to  steer  by  lunar  compass,  here  goes.'  Sais  J,  'my  dear 
bredren,'  — and  dey  all  called  out: 

•' '  You  farnal  nigga  you  !  do  you  call  us  bredren,  when  you  is  as 
black  as  de  debbil's  hind  leg?' 

"  '  I  beg  your  most  massiful  pardon,'  sais  I ;  '  but  as  you  is  ablu- 
tionists,  and  when  you  preach  call  us  regraded  niggars,  your 
colored  bredren,  1  tought  1  might  venture  to  foller  in  de  same  suit, 
if  1  had  a  card  ob  same  color.' 

"  '  Well  d«me,  Uncle  Tom,'  sais  they.  '  Well  done,  Zip  Coon,' 
and  dey  made  me  swallow  anoder  glass  ob  naked  truth.  Dis  here 
child  has  a  trong  head,  Massa,  dat  are  a  fac.  lie  stand  so  much 
sun,  he  aint  combustioned  in  his  entails. 

"  '  Go  on,'  sais  they. 

" '  Well,  my  bredren.'  sais  I,  '  I  will  dilate  to  you  the  vally  of  a 
nigga,  as  put  in  one  scale  and  white  man  in  de  oder.  Now 
bredren,  you  know  a  sparrer  can't  fall  to  de  ground  no  how  he  can 
fix  it,  but  de  Lord  knows  it  — in  course  ob  argument  you  d<>. 
Well,  you  knows  twelve  sparrers  sell  in  de  market  for  one  penny. 
In  course  of  respondence  you  do ;  how  much  then  does  de  Lord 
care  for  a  nigga  like  me,  who  is  worth  six  hundred  dollars  and  fifty 
cents  at  de  least?  So,  gentlemen,  1  is  done,  and  now  please,  my 
bredrcn,  I  will  pass  round  de  hat  wid  your  recurrence.' 

"  Well,  dey  was  pretty  high,  and  dey  behaved  like  gentlemen,  I 
must  submit  dat ;  dey  gub  me  four  dollars,  dey  did — dey  is  great 
friends  to  nigga,  and  great  mancipationists,  all  ob  dem  ;  and  I 
would  hab  got  two  dollars  more,  I  do  rally  conclude,  if  1  hadn't  a 
called  'em  my  bredren.  Dat  was  a  slip  ob  de  lock-jaw." 

"  I  must  inquire  into  this,"  said  Cutler,  "  it's  the  most  indecent 
thing  I  ever  heard  of.  It  is  downright  protiinity  ;  it  is  shocking." 

"  Very,"  said  I,  "but  the  sermon  wam't  a  bad  one;  I  never 
heerd  a  niggar  reason  before ;  I  knew  they  could  talk,  and  so  cau 


L63  THE     BETROTHAL. 

Lord  Tandemberry  ;  but  as  for  reasoning,  I  never  beerd  either  on« 
or  the  other  attempt  it  before.  There  is  an  approach  to  logic  in 
that" 

'•  There  is  a  very  good  hit  at  the  hypocrisy  of  abolitionists  in  it," 
said  the  Doctor;  "  that  appeal  about  rny  bredren  is  capital,  and 
the  passing  round  of  the  hat  is  quite  evangelical." 

"  Oigh,"  said  Peter,  "she  have  crossed  the  great  sea  and  the 
great  prairies,  and  she  haven't  heerd  many  sarmons,  for  Sunday 
don't  come  but  once  a  month  there ;  but  dat  is  the  pest  she  ever 
heerd,  it  is  so  short." 

•'  Slick,"  said  Cutler,  "  1  am  astonished  at  you.  Give  way  there, 
my  men  ;  ease  the  bow  oar." 

"Exactlv,"  sais  I,  "Cutler — give  way  there,  my  man;  ease  the 
bow-oar — that's  my  maxim,  too — how  the  devil  can  you  learn  il 
you  don't  hear?"  sais  I. 

"  How  can  you  learn  good,"  said  he, ."  if  you  listen  to  evil  ?" 

"  Let's  split  the  difference,"  said  1,  laughing,  as  1  say  in  swapping; 
"let's  split  the  difference.  If  you  don't  study  mankind,  how  can 
you  know  the  world  at  all  1  But  if  }ou  want  to  preach " 

"Come,  behave  yourself,"  said  he,  laughing;  "lower  down  the 
man-ropex,  there." 

"To  help  up  the  women,"  said  I. 

"Slick,"  said  he,  "it's  no  use  talking;  you  are  incorrigible." 

The  breakfast  was  like  other  breakfa>ts  of  the  same  kind  ;  and, 
as  the  wind  was  fair,  we  could  not  venture  to  offer  any  amusements 
to  our  guests.  So  in  due  time  we  parted,  the  Doctor  alone  of  the 
whole  party  remaining  on  board.  Cutler  made  the  first  move  by- 
ascend  ing  the  companion-ladder,  and  I  shook  hands  with  Peter  as 
a  hint  for  him  to  follow.  Jessie,  her  sister,  Ovey,  and  1,  remained 
a  few  minutes  longer  in  the  cabin.  The  former  was  much  agitated. 

"Good-bye."  said  she,  "Mr.  Slick!  Next  to  him,"  pointing  to 
the  Bachelor  Beaver,  '-you  have  been  the  kindest  and  best  friend  I 
ever  had.  You  have  made  me  feel  what  it  is  to  be  happy ;"  and, 
woman-like,  to  prove  her  happiness,  burst  out  a  crying,  and  threw 
her  arms  round  my  neck  and  kissed  me.  "Oh!  Mr.  Slick,  do  we 
part  forever  ?" 

"  Forever !"  sais  I,  trying  to  cheer  her  up ;  "  forever  is  a  most 
thundering  long  word.  No,  not  forever,  nor  for  long  either.  1 
expect  you  and  the  Doctor  will  come  and  visit  us  to  Slickville  this 
fall  ;''  and  I  laid  an  emphasis  on  that  word  "  i/s,"  because  it  referred 
to  what  I  had  told  her  of  Sophy. 

"  Oh  !"  said  she  ;  "  how  kind  that  is  !" 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "now  I  will  do  a  kinder  thing.  Jane  and  I  will 
go  on  deck,  and  leave  you  and  the  Doctor  to  bid  each  other  good- 
bye." As  I  reached  the  door,  1  turned  and  said  :  "Jessie,  teach 


A     FOGGY     NIGHT.  169 

him  Gaelic  the  way  Flora  taught  me — 'do  bhileau  boidheach'  (with 
your  pretty  lips).' " 

As  the  boat  drew  alongside.  Poter  bid  me  again  a  most  affec- 
tion.-ite  if  not  a  most  complimentary  farewell. 

"She  has  never  seen  many  Yankees  herself,"  said  Peter;  "but 
pray en  Joe,  the  horse-stealer — tarn  him — and  a  few  New  England 
pedlars,  who  asked  three  hundred  per  shent  for  their  coots,  but 
Mr.  Slick  is  a  shentleman,  every  inch  of  him,  and  the  pest  of  them 
she  ever  saw,  and  she  will  pe  glad  to  see  her  again  whenever  she 
comes  this  way." 

When  they  were  all  seated  in  the  boat,  Peter  played  a  doleful 
ditty,  which  I  have  no  doubt  expressed  the  grief  of  his  heart.  But 
1  am  sorry  to  say  it  was  not  much  appreciated  on  board  of  the 
"Black  Hawk."  By  the  time  they  reached  the  shore,  the  anchor 
•was  up,  the  sails  trimmed,  and  we  were  fairly  out  of  Ship  Harbor. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 
A    FOGGY    NIGHT. 

THE  wind,  what  there  was  of  it,  was  off  shore;  it  was  a 
li£;ht  north-wester,  but  after  we  made  an  offing  of  about  ten  miles, 
it  failed  us,  being  evidently  nothing  but  a  land-breeze,  and  we  were 
soon  becalmed.  After  tossing  about  for  an  hour  or  two,  a  light 
cat's  paw  gave  notice  that  a  fresh  one  was  springing  up,  but  it  was 
from  the  east,  and  directly  ahead. 

'•  We  shall  make  poor  work  of  this,"  said  the  pilot,  "and  I  am 
afraid  it  will  bring  up  a  fog  with  it,  which  is  a  dangerous  thing  on 
this  coast;  I  would  advise  returning  to  Ship  Harbor,  but  the 
Captain  said,  business  must  be  attended  to,  and  as  there  was  no 
thing  more  of  the  kind  to  be  done  there,  we  must  only  have 
patience  and  beat  up  for  Port  Liscomh,  which  is  a  great  resort  for 
fishermen."  I  proposed  we  should  take  the  wind  as  we  found  it, 
and  run  for  Chesencook,  a  French  settlement,  a  short  distance 
to  the  westward  of  us,  and  so  we  could  effect  our  object  there, 
which  [  thought  very  probable,  as  no  American  vessels  put  in 
there  if  they  can  avoid  it.  This  proposition  met  the  approval  of 
all  parties,  so  we  put  the  Black  Hawk  before  the  wind,  and  by 
sunset  were  safely  and  securely  anchored.  The  sails  were  scarcely 
furled  before  the  fog  set  in,  or  rather  rose  up,  for  it  seemed  not  so 
much  to  come  from  the  sea  as  to  ascend  from  it  as  steam  arisen 
from  heated  water. 


1 70  A     FOGGY     NIGHT. 

It  seemed  the  woik  of  magic,  its  appearance  was  so  sudden.  A 
moment  before  there  was  a  glorious  sunset,  now  we  had  impene. 
trable  darkness.  We  were  enveloped,  as  it  were,  in  a  cloud,  the 
more  dense,  perhaps,  bec;iuse  its  progress  was  arrested  by  the 
spruce  hills,  back  of  the  village,  and  it  had  receded  upon  itself. 
The  little  French  settlement  (for  the  inhabitants  were  all  descended 
from  the  ancient  Acadians)  was  no  longer  discernible,  and  heavy 
drops  of  water  fell  from  the  rigging  on  to  the  deck.  The  men  put 
on  their  "  sow- wester"  hats,  and  yellow  oiled  cotton  jackets.  Their 
hair  looked  gray,  as  if  there  had  been  sleet  falling.  There  was  a 
great  change  in  the  temperature — the  weather  appeared  to  have 
suddenly  retrograded  to  April,  not  that  it  was  so  cold,  but  that  it 
was  raw  and  uncomfortable.  We  shut  the  companion-door  to 
keep  it  from  descending  there,  and  paced  the  deck  and  discoursed 
upon  this  disagreeable  vapor-bath,  its  cause,  its  effects  on  the  con 
stitution,  and  so  on. 

"It  does  not  penetrate  far  jnto  the  country,"  said  the  Doctor, 
"and  is  bv  no  means  unhealthy,  as  it  is  of  a  different  character 
altogether  from  the  land-fog.  As  an  illustration,  however,  of  its 
density,  and  of  the  short  distance  it  rises  from  the  water,  I  will 
tell  you  a  circumstance  to  which  I  was  an  eye-witness.  I  was  on 
the  citadel  hill  at  Halifax  once,  and  saw  the  points  of  the  masts  of 
a  mail-steamer  above  the  fog,  as  she  was  proceeding  up  the  harbor, 
and  I  waited  there  to  ascertain  if  she  could  possibly  escape  George's 
Island,  which  lay  directly  in  her  track,  but  which  it  was  mar :  test 
her  pilot  could  not  discern  from  the  deck.  In  a  few  moments*  she 
was  stationary.  All  this  I  could  plainly  perceive,  although  the 
hull  of  the  vessel  was  invisible.  Some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the 
obscurity  occasioned  by  the  fog,  from  the  absurd  stories  that  were 
waggishly  put  abroad  at  the  time  of  the  accident.  It  was  gravely 
asserted,  that  the  first  notice  the  sentinel  had  of  her  approach,  w».s 
a  poke  in  the  side  from  her  jib-boom,  which  knocked  him  over  into 
the  moat  and  broke  two  of  his  ribs ;  and  it  was  also  maintained 
with  equal  truth,  that  when  she  came  to  the  wharf,  it  was  found 
she  had  brought  away  a  small  brass  gun  on  her  bowsprit,  which, 
like  an  elephant,  she  had  thrust  her  Jong  trunk  into." 

"Well,"  sais  I,  "let  Halifax  alone  for  that;  there  are  some 
droll  coves  there,  that's  a  fact — many  a  laugh  I  have  had  there,  ) 
tell  you.  But,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "just  listen  to  the  noises  on  shore 
here  at  Chesencook.  It's  a  curious  thing  to  hear  the  shout  of  the 
anxious  mother  to  her  vagrant  boy  to  return,  before  night  makes 
it  too  dark  to  find  his  way  home,  ain't  it  1  and  to  listen  to  the 
noisy  gambols  of  invisible  children,  the  man  in  the  cloud  bawling 
to  his  oxen,  as  if  the  fog  had  affected  their  hearing  instead  of  their 
sight,  the  sharp  ring  of  the  axe  at  the  wood-pile,  and  the  barking 
of  the  dogs  as  they  defy  or  salute  each  othe" — one  1  fancy  is  a 


A     FOGGY     NIGHT.  171 

grumbling  bark,  as  much  as  to  say,  No  sleep  for  us,  old  boy,  to- 
night; some  of  these  coasters  will  be  making  love  to  our  sheep  as 
they  did  last  week,  if  we  don't  keep  a  bright  look-out.  If  you 
hear  a  fellow  speak  English,  pitch  right  into  the  heretic,  and  bite 
like  a  mapping-turtle  ;  1  always  do  so  in  the  dark,  for  they  can't 
swear  to  you  when  they  don't  see  you.  If  they  don't  give  me  my 
soup  soon,  (how  like  a  French  dog  that,  ain't  it?)  I'll  have  a  cod- 
fish for  my  supper* to-night  off  of  old  jodry's  flakes  at  the  other  end 
of  the  harbor,  for  our  masters  bark  so  loud  they  never  bite,  so  let 
them  accuse  little  Paul  Longille  of  theft.  1  wonder  if  dogs  do 
talk,  Doctor  ?"  said  I. 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  it,"  he  replied.  " I  believe  both  animals 
and  birds  have  some  means  of  communicating  to  each  other  all 
that  is  necessary  for  them — I  don't  go  further." 

"  Well,  that's  reasonable,"  sais  I ;  "I  go  that  figure,  too,  but  not 
a  cent  higher.  Now  there  is  a  nigger,"  sais  I;  and  I  would  have 
given  him  a  wink  if  I  could,  and  made  a  jupe  of  my  head  towards 
Cutler,  to  show  him  I  was  agoin  to-get  the  Captain's  dander  up  for 
fun  ;  but  what's  the  use  of  a  wink  in  a  fog?  In  the  first  place,  it 
aint  easy  to  make  one ;  your  lids  are  so  everlastin'  heavy  ;  and 
who  the  plague  can  see  you  if  you  do?  and  if  they  did  notice  it, 
they  would  only  think  you  were  tryin1  to  protect  your  peepers, 
that's  all.  Well,  a  wink  is  no  better  nor  a  nod  to  a  blind  horse  , 
so  I  gave  him  a  nudge  instead.  "  Now,  there  is  the  nigger,  Doc- 
tor," sais  I,  "  do  you  think  he  has  a  soul  ?*  It's  a  question  I  always 
wanted  to  ask  Brother  Eldad,  for  I  never  see  him  a  dissectin'  of  a 
darky.  If  I  l.ad,  I  ?-houM  have  known,  for  nature  has  a  place  for 
everything.  and  everything  in  its  place." 

"Mr.  Slick,"  said  Cutler — he  never  called  me  Mr.  Slick  before, 
and  it  showed  he  was  mad, — "  do  you  doubt  it?" 

"  No,"  sais  1,  "  I  don't ;  my  only  doubt  is  whether  they  have 
three  ?" 

'•  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean  ?"  said  he. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  two  souls  we  know  they  have — their  great  flat 
splaw  feet  show  that,  and  as  hard  as  jackasses'  they  are,  too  ;  but 
the  third  is  my  difficulty;  if  they  have  a  soul,  where  is  it?  We 
aint  jest  satisfied  about  its  locality  in  ourselves.  Is  it  in  the  heart, 

*  This  very  singular  and  inconsequential  rhodogiontade  of  Mr.  Slick  is  one 
of  those  startling  pieces  of  levity  that  a  stranger  often  hears  from  a  person  of 
his  class  in  his  travels  on  this  side  of  the  water.  The  odd  mixture  of  strong 
religious  feeling  and  repulsive  looseness  of  conversation  on  serious  subjects, 
which  may  here  and  there  be  found  in  his  diary,  naturally  results  from  a  free 
association  with  persons  of  all  or  no  creeds.  It  is  the  most  objectionable  trait  in 
his  character — to  re'  :ct  it  altogether  would  be  to  vary  the  portrait  he  has  given 
us  of  himself — to  a  mil  it  lowers  the  estimate  we  might  otherwise  be  disposed 
to  form  of  him ;  bi.t  aa  he  has  often  observed,  what  is  the  use  of  a  sketch  if  U 
to  not  faithful ; 


172  A     FOGGY     NIGHT. 

or  the  brain,  or  where  does  it  hang  out  ?  We  know  gees.,  h*  'e 
souls,  and  we  know  where  to  find  them." 

"  Oh,  oh  !"  said  Cutler. 

"  Cut  off  the  legs  and  wings  and  breast  of  the  goose,"  sais  I, 
"and  split  him  down  lengthways,  and  right  agin  the  back-bone  is 
small  ceils,  and  there  is  the  goose's  soul,  it's  black  meat,  pretty 
much  nigger  color.  Oh,  it's  grand  !  It's  the  mpst  delicate  part  of 
the  bird.  It's  what  I  always  ask  for  myself,  when  folks  say,  '  Mr 
Slick,  what  part  shall  1  help  you  to — a  slice  of  the  breast,  a  wing 
a  side-bone,  or  a  deacon's  nose,  or  what1?'  Every  body  laughs  at 
that  last,  word,  especially  if  there  is  a  deacon  at  table,  for  it  sounds 
unctuous,  as  he  calls  it,  and  he  can  excuse  a  joke  on  it.  So  he 
laughs  himself,  in  token  of  approbation  of-the  tid-bits  being  reserved 
for  him.  '  Give  me  the  soul.'  sais  I ;  and  this  I  will  say,  a  most 
delicious  thing  it  is.  too.  Now,  don't  groan,  Cutler — keep  that  for 
the  tooth-ache,  or  a  camp-meetin  ;  it's  a  waste  of  breath  ;  for  as  we 
don't  exactly  know  where  our  own  souls  reside,  what  harm  is  there 
to  pursue  such  an  interesting  investigation  as  to  our  black  brethren. 
My  private  opinion  is.  if  a  nigger  has  one,  it  is  located  in  his  heel." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Slick  !"  said  he,  "oh  !"  and  he  held  up  both  hands. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  Cutler,  just  listen  to  reason  now,  just  hear  me; 
you  have  been  all  round  the  world,  but  never  in  it;  now,  I  have 
been  a  great  deal  in  it,  but  don't  care  for  goin'  round  it.  It  don't 
pay.  Did  you  ever  see  a  nigger  who  had  the  gout?  for  they  feed 
on  the  best,  and  drink  of  the  best,  when  they  are  household  ser- 
vants down  south,  and  often  have  the  gout.  If  you  have,  did  you 
ever  hear  one  say,  '  Get  off  my  toes  ]'  No  never,  nor  any  other 
created  critter.  They  always  say,  '  Get  off  my  heel.'  They  are 
all  like  Lucy  Long,  '  when  her  foot  was  in  the  market-house,  her 
heel  was  in  the  street.'  It  is  the  pride  and  boast  of  a  darkey.  His 
head  is  as  thick  as  a  ram's,  but  his  heel  is  very  sensitive.  Now, 
does  the  soul  reside  there?  Did  you  ever  study  a  dead  nigger's 
heel,  as  we  do  a  horse's  frog.  All  the  feeling  of  a  horse  is  there. 
Wound  that,  and  he  never  recovers  ;  he  is  foundered — his  heart  is 
broke.  Now,  if  a  nigger  has  a  soul,  and  it  ain't  in  his  gizzard, 
and  can't  in  naiur  be  in  his  skull,  why,  it  stands  to  reason  it  must 
be  in  his  heel." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  Cutler,  "I  never  thought  I  should  have 
heard  this  from  you.  It's  downright  profanity." 

"It's  no  such  thing,"  sais  I,  "it's  merely  a  "philosophical  investi- 
gation. Mr.  Cutler,''  sais  I,  "  let  us  understand  each  other.  I  have 
been  brought  up  by  a  minister  as  well  as  you,  and  I  believe  your 
father,  the  clergyman  at  Barnstable,  was  as  good  a  man  as  ever 
lived;  but  Barnstable  is  a  small  place.  My  de;;r  old  master,  Mr. 
Hopewell,  was  an  old  man  who  had  seen  a  great  deal  in  his  time, 
and  kuev  a  great  deal,  for  he  had  gone  through  the  mill." 


A   '  FuuGT     NIGHT.  173 

"What  is  that?"  said  he. 

"Why,"  sais  I,  "when  he  was  a  boy,  he  was  inter. fled,  like 
Washington,  for  a  land  surveyor,  and  studied  that  branch  of  busi 
ness,  and  was  to  go  to  the  woods  to  lay  out  lots.  Well,  a  day  or 
two  arter  he  was  diplomatised  as  a  surveyor,  he  went  to  bathe  in  a 
mill-pond,  and  the  mill  was  agoin'  like  all  statiee,  and  sucked  him 
into  the  flume,  and  he  went  through  into  the  race  below,  and  camo 
out  t'other  side  with  both  his  legs  broke.  It  was  a  dreadful  acci- 
dent, and  gave  him  serious  reflections,  for  as  he  lay  in  bed,  he 
thought  he  might  just  as  easily  have  broke  his  neck.  Well,  in  our 
country  about  Slickville,  any  man  arter  that  who  was  wise  and  had 
experience  of  life,  was  said  to  have  gone  through  the  mill.  Do  \ou 
take  ]" 

But  he  didn't  answer. 

'•  Well,  your  father  and  my  good  old  friend  brought  us  both  up 
religiously,  and  1  hope  taught  us  what  was  right.  But,  Mr 
Cutler — — " 

"Don't  call  me  Mr.,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  Cutler,  then,  I  have  been  '  through  the  mill,'  in  that  sense. 
I  have  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  world  ;  if  I  havn't,  the  kicks  1 
have  taken  must  have  fallen  on  barren  ground;  I  know  the  chalk 
line  in  life  won't  do  always  to  travel  by.  If  you  go  straight  ahead, 
a  bottomless  quag  or  a  precipice  will  bring  you  up  all  standing  as 
sure  as  fate.  Well,  they  don't  stop  me,  lor  1  give  them  the  go-by, 
and  make  a  level  line  without  a  tunnel,  or  tubular  bridge,  <>r  any 
other  scientific  folly  ;  I  get  to  the  end  my  own  way — and  it  aint  a 
slow  one  neither.  Let  me  be,  and  put  this  in  your  pipe.  1  have 
set  many  a  man  straight  before  now,  but  I  never  put  one  on  the 
wrong  road  since  1  was  raised.  1  daresay  you  have  heard  I  cheated 
in  clocks — I  never  did.  1  have  sold  a  fellow  one  for  five  pounds 
that  cost  me  one  ;  skill  did  thnt.  Let  him  send  to  London,  and  get 
one  of  Barraud's,  as  father  did,  for  twenty-five  pounds  sterling. 
Will  it  keep  better  time?  I  guess  not.  Is  that  a  case  of  sell? 
Well,  my  knowledge  of  horse-flesh  aint  to  be  sneezed  at.  I  buy 
one  for  fifty  dollars  and  sell  him  for  two  hundred;  that's  skill  again 
—  it  aint  a  cheat.  A  merchant  thinking  a  Russian  war  inevitable, 
buys  flour  at  four  dollars  a  barrel,  and  sells  it  in  a  month  at  sixteen. 
Is  that  a  fraud  ?  There  is  royuery  in  all  trades  but  our  own.  Let 
rne  alone  therefore.  There  is  wisdom  sometimes  in  a  fool's  answer; 
the  learned  are  simple,  the  ignorant  wise;  hear  them  both;  above 
all,  hear  them  out ;  jmd  if  they  don't  talk  with  a  looseness,  draw 
them  out.  If  Newman  had  talked  as  well  as  studied,  he  never 
would  have  quitted  his  church.  He  didn't  convince  himself  he  was 
wrong;  he  bothered  himself,  so  he  didn't  at  last  know  right  from 
wrong.  If  other  folks  had  talked  freely,  they  would  have  met  him 
or  the  road,  and  told  him,  *  YI>U  have 'lost  \<>IIT  MH\\  old  boy  ;  th«jre 


/74  A     FOGGY     NIGHT. 

«s  a  river  a-head  of  you,  and  a  very  civil  ferryman  there ;  he  will 
<ake  you  over  free  gratis  for  nothing;  but  the  deuce  a  bit  will  he 
oring  \ou  back,  there  is  an  embargo  that  side  of  the  water.'  Now 
let  tin:  alone  ;  I  don't  talk  nonsense  for  nothing,  and  when  you  tack 
this  way  and  that  way,  and  beat  the  '  Black  Hawk'  upagen  the  wind, 
I  won't  tell  you  you  don't  steer  right  on  end  on  a  bee  line,  and  go 
as  straight  as  a  loon's  leg.  Do  you  take '?" 

"  I  understand  you,"  he  said,  "  but  still  I  don't  see  the  use  of 
saying  what  you  don't  mean.  Perhaps  it's  my  ignorance  or  preju- 
dice, or  whatever  you  choose  to  call  it ;  but  1  dare  say  you  know 
what  you  are  about." 

"  Cutler,"  sais  J,  "  I  warn't  born  yesterday.  The  truth  is,  so 
much  nonsense  is  talked  about  niggers,  1  feel  riled  when  I  think  of 
it.  It  actilly  makes  me  feel  spotty  on  the  back.*  When  I  wras  to 
London  last,  I  was  asked  to  attend  a  meetin,'  for  foundin'  a  college 
f»r  our  colored  brethren.  Uncle  Tom  had  set  some  folks  half  crazy, 
and  others  half  mad,  and  what  he  couldn't  do  Aunt  Harriet  did. 
'  Well,'  sais  I  to  myself,  'is  this  bunkum  or  what  in  natur  is  it? 
If  I  go,  I  shall  be  set  down  as  a  spooney  abolitionist ;  if  I  don't  go, 
1  shall  be  set  down  as  an  overseer  or  nigger  driver,  and  not  a  clock- 
maker.  I  can't  please  nobody  any  way,  and  what  is  wus,  I  don't 
believe  I  shall  please  Mr.  Slick,  no  how  I  can  fix  it.  However,  I 
will  go  and  see  which  way  the  mule  kicks." 

"  Well,  Lord  Blotherumskite  jumps  up,  and  makes  a  speech ;  and 
what  do  you  think  he  set  about  proving?  Why  that  darkies  had 
immortal  souls— as  if  any  created  critter  ever  doubted  it!  and  he 
pitched  into  us  Yankees  and  the  poor  colonists  like  a  thousand  o-/* 
bricks.  The  fact  is  the  way  he  painted  us  both  out,  one  would 
think  he  doubted  whether  we  had  any  souls.  The  pious  galls  turned 
up  the  whites  of  their  eyes  like  ducks  in  thunder,  as  if  they  expected 
drakes  to  fall  from  the  skies,  and  the  low  church  folks  called  out, 
hear,  hear,  as  if  they  had  discovered  the  passage  at  the  North  Pole, 
which  I  do  think  might  be  made  of  som^  use  if  it  warn't  blocked  up 
with  ice  for  everlastingly.  And  he  talked  of  that  great  big  he  nig- 
ger, Uncle  Tom  Lavender,  who  was  as  large  as  a  bull  buffalo.  He 
said  he  only  wished  he  was  in  the  House  of  Peers,  for  he  would 
have  astonished  their  lordships.  Well,  so  far  he  was  correct,  for  if 
he  had  been  in  their  hot  room,  I  think  Master  Lavender  would  have 

*  This  extraordinary  effect  of  anger  and  fear  on  animals  was  observed  centu- 
ries before  America  was  discovered.  Statius.  a  writer  who  fully  equals  Mr 
Slick  both  in  his  affectation  and  bombast,  thus  alludes  to  it : — 

"  Qualis  ubi  audito  venantum  murmure  tigris, 

Horniit  in  maculas" 
"As  when  tne  tigress  hears  the  hunter's  din, 

Dark  angry  spots  distain  her  glossy  ski"  " 


A     FOGGY     NIGHT.  176 

astonished  their  weak  nerves  so,  not  many  would  have  waited  to  he 
counted.  There  would  soon  have  been  a  dispersion,  but  there  never 
would  have  been  a  division." 

"  Well,  what  did  you  do  ?"  said  Cutler. 

"  Kept  my  word,"  sais  I,  '•  as  I  always  do.  I  seconded  the 
motion,  but  I  gave  them  a  dose  of  common  sense,  as  a  foundation 
to  build  upon.  J  told  them  niggers  must  be  prepared  for  liberty, 
and  when  they  were  sufficiently  instructed  to  receive  and  appreciate 
the  blessing,  they  must  have  elementary  knowledge,  furst  in  religion 
and  then  on  the  useful  arts,  before  a  college  should  be  attempted, 
and  so  on,  and  then  took  up  my  hat  and  walked  out.  Well,  they 
almost  hissed  me,  and  the  sour  virgins  who  bottled  up  all  their 
humanity  to  pour  out  on  the  niggers,  actilly  pineted  at  me,  and  called 
me  a  Yankee  Pussyite.  I  had  some  capital  stories  to  excite  'em 
with,  but  I  didn't  think  they  were  worth  the  powder  and  shot. 
It  takes  a  great  many  strange  people,  Cutler,"  sais  I,  "  to  make  a 
world.  1  used  to  like  to  put  the  leake  into  folks  wunst,  but  I  have 
given  it  up  in  disgust  now." 

"  Why  ?"  sais  he. 

*'  Because,"  sais  I,  "  if  you  put  a  leake  into  a  cask  that  haint  got 
much  in  it,  the  grounds  and  settlin's  won't  pay  for  the  trouble. 
Our  people  talk  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  about  emancipation,  but 
they  know  it's  all  bunkum,  and  it  serves  to  palmeteer  on,  and 
makes  a  pretty  party  catch-word.  But  in  England,  it  appears  to 
me,  they  always  like  what  they  don't  understand,  as  niggers  do 
Latin  and  Greek  quotations  in  sermons.  But  here  is  Sorrow.  I 
suppose  tea  is  ready,  as  the  old  ladies  say.  Come,  old  boy,"  sais  I 
to  Cutler,  "  shake  hands ;  we  have  the  same  object  in  view,  but 
sometimes  we  travel  by  different  trains,  that's  all.  Cotne,  let  us 
go  below.  Ah,  Sorrow,''  sais  I,  "  something  smells  good  here  ;  U 
it  a  moose  steak  ?  Take  off  that  dish-cover." 

"  Ah,  Massa,"  said  he,  as  he  removed  it,  "  dat  are  is  lubby,  dat 
are  a  fac." 

When  1  looked  at  it,  I  said  very  gravely. 

"  Take  it  away,  Sorrow,  I  can't  eat;  it ;  you  have  put  the  salt  and 
pepper  on  it  before  you  broiled  it,  and  drawn  out  all  the  juice.  It's 
as  dry  as  leather.  Take  it,  away." 

"  Does  you  link  it  would  be  a  little  more  better  if  it  was  a  little 
more  doner.  Sar?  People  of  'finement.  like  you  and  me,  some- 
time differ  in  tastes.  But,  Massa,  as  to  de  salt,  now  how  you  talks  ! 
does  you  railly  link  dis  here  nigga  hab  no  more  sense  den  one  oh 
dees  stupid  white  fishermen  has?  No,  Massa;  dis  child  knows  his 
work,  and  is  de  boy  to  do  it,  too.  When  de  steak  is  een  amost 
done,  he  ;score  him  length  way — dis  way,"  passing  a  finger  of  his 
right  h«i!.id  over  the  palm  of  the  left,  "and  fill  up  de  crack  wid  s;tlt 
aiuj  pepper,  then  gub  him  one  turn  more,  and  dat  resolve  it  aU 


176  A     FOGGY     NIGHT. 

lieautiful.  Oh  no,  Massa,  moose  meat  is  naterally  werry  dry,  like 
Yankee  preacher  when  he  got  no  baccy.  So  I  makes  graby  for 
him.  Oh,  here  is  some  lubbly  graby  !  Try  dis.  Massa.  My  old 
missus  in  Varginy  was  werry  particular  about  her  graby.  She 
usen  to  say,  '  Sorrow,  it  tante  fine  clothes  makes  de  gentleman,  but 
a  delicate 'taste  for  soups,  and  giabys,  and  currys.  Barbacues, 
Jroast  pigs,  salt  meat,  and  such  coarse  tings,  is  only  fit  for  Congress- 
frien.'  I  kinsait  my  graby,  Massa,  is  done  to  de  turn  ob  a  hair,  for 
dis  child  is  a  rambitious  iiigga.  Fust,  Massa,  I  puts  in  a  lump  ob 
butter  'bout  size  ob  piece  ob  chalk,  and  a  glass  ob  water,  and  den 
'prinkle  in  flour  to  make  it  look  like  milk,  den  put  him  on  fire,  and 
when  he  hiss,  stir  him  wid  spoon  to  make  him  hush ;  den  I  adds 
inion,  dat  is  fust  biled  to  take  offde  'trong  taste,  'eetle  made  mus- 
tard, and  a  pinch  ob  most  elegant  super-superor  yellow  snuff." 

"  SnufF,  you  rascal !"  said  I,  "how  d;ire  you?  Take  it  away  — 
throw  it  overboard !  Oh,  Lord  !  to  think  of  eating  snuff!  Was 
there  ever  anything  half  so  horrid  since  the  world  began  ?  Sorrow, 
I  thought  you  had  better  br<>ughtens  up." 

"  Well,  now.  Massa,"  said  he,  ''does  you  tink  dis  nigga  hab  no 
soul?"  and  he  went  to  the  locker,  and  brought  out  a  small  square 
pint  bottle,  and  said,  "  smell  dat,  Massa ;  dat  are  oliriferous,  dat 
are  a  fac." 

"  Why,  that's  curry-powder,"  I  said.  "  Why  don't  you  call 
things  by  their  right  name?" 

"  Massa,"  said  he,  with  a  knowing  wink,  "  dere  is  more  snujf  den 
is  made  ofbacce,  dat  are  an  undoubtable  fac.  De  scent  ob  dat  is  so 
good,  I  can  smell  it  ashore  amost.  Den,  Massa.  when  graby  is  all 
ready,  and  distrained  beautiful,  dis  child  warms  him  up  by  de  fire 
and  stirs  him ;  but,"  and  he  put  his  finger  on  his  nose,  and  looked 
me  full  in  the  face,  and  paused,  "but  Massa,  it  must  be  stir  all  de 
one  way,  or  it  iles  up,  and  de  dcbbil  hisself  won't  put  him  right  no 
more.'' 

"  Sorrow,"  sais  I,  "  you  don't  know  nothin'  about  your  business. 
Suppose  it  did  get  iled  up,  any  fool  could  set  it  right  in  a  minute  " 

"Yes,  yes,  Massa,"  he  said,  "1  know.  1  abdone  it  myself  often 
1 — drink  it  all  up,  and  make  it  ober  again,  until  all  right  wunst 
more  ;  sometimes  I  drink  him  up  de  matter  ob  two  or  tree  times 
before  he  get  quite  right." 

"No,"  sais  I,  "take  it  off  the  fire,  add  two  spoonfuls  of  cold 
?rater,  heat  it  again,  and  stir  it  the  right  way,  and  it  is  as  straight 
as  a  boot-jack." 

"  Well,  Massa,"  said  he.  and  he  showed  an  unusual  Quantity  of 
white  in  his  eyes,  "  well,  Massa,  you  is  actilly  right.  My  old  mis- 
sus taught  me  dat  secret  herself/and  I  did  actilly  tink  MO  libbin' 
soul  but  me  and  she  in  de  whole  univarsal  United  States  did  know 
dat  are,  .*>  r  I  take  my  oat.  an  my  last  will  and  testament,  f  nebb*' 


A     POOGT     NIGHT.  177 

lole  nobody.  But,  Massa,"  said  he,  "I  ab  twenty  different  ways — 
ay,  fifty  different  ways,  to  make  graby.  but,  at  sea,  one  must  do  de 
best  he  can  with  nottin  to  do  with,  and  when  nottin  is  simmered  a 
week  in  nottin  by  de  fire,  it  don't  take  long  to  sarve  him  up.  Massa, 
if  you  will  scuze  me,  1  will  tell  you  what  dis  here  nigga  tinks  on 
de  subject  ob  his  perfession.  Some  grand  folks,  like  Missus,  and  de 
Queen  ob  England  and  de  Emperor  ob  Roosia,  may  be  fust  chop 
cooks,  and  I  won't  deny  de  fac;  and  no  taxes  to  'em,  for  dere  sauce 
pans  is  all  silber  and  gold;  but  I  have  'skivered  dey  don't  know 
nuffin'  about  de  riiiht  way  to  eat  tings  after  dey  has  gone  done 'em. 
Me  and  Miss  Phillesy  Anne,  de  two  confdential  sarvants,  allers 
had  de  dinner  sent  into  our  room  when  missus  ,done  gone  feedin'. 
Missus  was  werry  kind  to  us,  and  we  neber  stinted  her  in  nuffin'. 
I  allers  gib  her  one  bottle  wine,  and  no-he-no  more  den  was  possi- 
ble for  her  and  her  company  to  want,  and  in  course  good  conduct 
is  allers  rewarded,  cause  we  had  what  was  left.  Well,  me  and 
Miss  Phillis  used  to  dress  up  hansum  for  dinner,  to  set  good  sample 
to  niggars,  and  two  ob  de  colored  waiters  tended  on  us. 

"So  one  day,  said  Miss  Phillis  to  me:  'What  shall  I  ab  de 
honor  to  help  yaw  to,  Mr.  Sorrow.' 

"  '  Aunt  Phillis,'  sais  I,  '  skuse  me  one  minit,  I  ab  made  a  grand 
skiverv.' 

u '  What  is  dat,  uncle,'  sais  she,  '  you  is  so  clebber !  I  clare  you 
is  wort  you  weight  in  gold.  WThat  in  natur  would  our  dear  Missus 
do  widout  you  and  me;  for  it  was  me  skivered  how  to  cure  de 
pip  in  chickens,  and  make  de  eggs  all  hatch  out  roosters  or  hens ; 
and  how  to  souse  young  turkeys  like  young  children,  in  cold  water, 
but  what  is  your  wention,  Mr.  Sorrow  ?' 

"  '  Why,'  sais  If  'aunty — what  does  you  see  out  ob  dat  winder, 
Sambo  ?  you  imperent  rascal — Nuffin,  Sar.  Well,  you  black  nigga, 
if  you  stare  bout  dat  way,  you  will  see  yourself  flogged  next  time. 
If  you  ab  no  manners,  1  must  teach  you  for  de  credit  ob  de  plan- 
tation ;  hold  a  plate  to  Miss  •  Phillis  right  away.  Why,  aunty,' 
sais  I,  '  dis  is  de  skivery  :  a  house  must  have  solid  foundation,  but  a 
dinner  a  soft  one — on  count  ob  disgestion  ;  so  I  begins  wid  custard 
and  jelly,  (dey  tastes  werry  well  together,  and  are  light  on  de 
stornac ;)  den  I  takes  a  glass  ob  whisky  to  keep  em  from  turnii: 
sour ;  dat  is  de  first  step.  Sambo,  pour  me  out  some.  Second 
one  is  presarves,  ices,  fruits — strawberry  and  cream,  or  mustache- 
churnings  (pistachio  cream),  and  if  dey  is  skilful  stowed,  den  de 
cargo  don't  shift  under  de  hatches — arter  dat  comes  punkin  pie, 
pineapple  tarts,  and  raspberry  charlotte.' 

"  '"Mr.  Sorrow,'  sais  aunty,  '  Fs  actilly  ashamed  ob  you  to  name 
a  dish  arter  a  yaller  gall  dat  way,  and  call  it  charlotte  j  it's  onde- 
cent,  specially  afore  dese  niggars.' 
8* 


178  A     FOGGY     NIGHT. 

V 

" '  Law,  sakes,'  sais  I,  "  Miss  Phillis,  does  you  link  I  ab  no 
4ense;  I  hate  a  jailer  gall  as  I  do  a  pyson.' 

"  '  So  do  1,'  said  she,  '  dey  is  neider  chalk  nor  cheese ;  dey  is  a 
disgrace  to  de  plantation  dey  is  on ;  but  raspberry  charlotte  is  a 
name  I  nebber  heard  tell  ob  for  a  di.-h.  Why  how  you  talks,'  sais  I. 

"  Well,  den  is  de  time  for  fish,  such  as  stewed  rocks.' 

"  '  Now  you  is  a  funnen,'  sais  aunty,  ;  isn't  y>u  ?  How  on  airth 
do  you  stew  rocks  ?  yah  !  yah  !  yah  !  ' 

"  '  Easy  as  kiss  my  hand  to  you,'  sais  I,  '  and  if  dere  be  no  fish, 
(and  dat  white  Yankee  oberseer  is  so  cussed  lazy,  hout  catchin  of 
them,  I  must  struct  Missus  to  discharge  him,)  den  dere  is  two  nice 
little  genteel  dishes,  '  birds  in  de  grobe,'  and  '  plover  on  de  shore,' 
and  den  top  off  wid  soup;  and  I  ain't  particular  about  dat,  so  long 
as  I  ab  de  best;  and  dat,  Miss  Phillis,  makes  a  grand  soft  bed,  you 
see,  for  stantials  like  beef  or  mutton,  or  ham,  or  venson,  to  lay 
down  easy  on.' 

"  '  Well,  you  is  a  wonderful  man,  Mr.  Sorrow,  I  do  really  tink 
dat  stands  to  reason  and  experience,'  sais  Miss  Thellis.  WUen  F 
marred  my  fiff  husband — no,  it  warn't  my  fiff,  it  was  my  sixth — I 
had  lubly  baby  tree  month  six  weeks  old,  and  my  old  man  killed 
it  maken  speriments.  He  would  give  it  soup,  and  minced  veal  to 
make  it  trong.  Sais  I,  '  Mr.  Caesar,  dat  aint  natur ;  fust  you  know 
it  must  ab  milk,  den  pap,  and  so  on  in  order.1  Says  he,  '  I  allus 
feeds  master's  young  bull-dogs  on  raw  meat.  Well,  Caesar  died 
same  night,  child  did,'  (and  she  gub  me  a  wink  ;»)  'sunth-n  dis- 
agreed wid  him  also  that  he  eat.'  '  Oh  Massa,'  he  continued,  '  bears 
dat  ab  cubs,  and  women  dat  ab  childern,  in  dangerous.  '  Mr.  Sor- 
row,' said  she,  'dat  is  a  great  skivery  of  yourn ;  you'd  best  tell 
Missus.' 

"  '  I  is  most  afeard  she  is  too  much  slave  to  fashion,'  sais  I. 
"  '  Uncle,  said  she,  'you  mustn't  say  dat  ob  dear  Miss  Lunn,  or 
I  must  decline  de  onor  to  dine  wid  you.     It  aint  spectful.     Mr. 
Sorrow,  my  missus  aint  de  slave  ob  fashion — she  sets  it,  by -golly  ! ' 
and  she  stood  up  quite  dignant. 

1 '  Sambo,  clar  out  ob  dis  dinen  room  quick  stick,'  sais  I  to  de 
waiter;  'you  is  so  fond  ob  looken  out  on  de  field,  you  shall  go 
work  dere,  you  lazy  hound  ;  walk  out  ob  de  room  dis'minit;  when 
I  has  finished  my  dinner,  I  will  make  you  jine  de  labor  gang.  Miss 
Phillis,  do  resume  your  seat  agin,  you  is  right  as  you  allus  is  ;  shall 
I  ab  de  honor  to  take  glass  ob  wine  wid  you.' 

"Now,  Massa,  try  dat  skivery;  you  will  be  able  to  eat  tree 
times  as  much  as  you  do  now.  Arter  dat  invention,  I  used  to 
enjoy  my  sleep  grand.  I  went  into  de  hottest  place  in  de  sun.  laid 
up  my  face  to  him,  and  sleep  like  a  cedar  stump,  but  den  i  allus 
put  my  veil  on." 

"  To  keep  the  flies  dfF  ? "  said  I 


A     FOGGY     NIGHT.  179 

"Lord  gracious!  no,  master,  dey  nebber  trouble  me;  dey  is 
afraid  in  de  dark,  and  when  dey  see  me,  dey  tink  it  is  night,  and 
cut  off." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  it,  then  ?  " 

"  To  save  my  complexion,  massa ;  I  is  afraid  it  will  fade  white. 
Yah,  yah,  yah  !  " 

While  we  were  engaged  in  eating  our  steak,  he  put  some  glasses 
on  the  table  and  handed  me  a  black  bottle,  about  two  thirds  full, 
and  said  'massa,  dis  here  fog  ab  got  down  my  troat,  and  up  into 
my  head,  and  most  kill  me,  I  can't  tell  wedder  dat  is  wine  or  rum, 
I  is  almost  gwine  almost  distracted.  Will  massa  please  to  tell 
me?" 

I  knew  what  he  was  at,  so  sais  I,  "  If  you  can't  smell  it,  taste 
it."  Well,  he  poured  a  glass  so  full,  nobody  but  a  nigger  could 
have  reached  his  mouth  with  it,  without  spilling.  When  he  had 
swallowed  it  he  looked  still  more  puzzled. 

"  Peers  to  me,"  he  said,  "  dat  is  wine,  he  is  so  mild,  and  den  it 
'peers  to  me  it's  rum,  for  when  it  gets  down  to  de  stomach  he  feel 
so  good.  But  dis  child  ab  lost  his  taste,  his  smell,  and  his  finement, 
altogedder." 

He  then  poured  out  another  bumper,  and  as  soon  as  he  had 
tossed  it  off,  said,  "  dat  is  de  clear  grit;  dat  is  oleriferous — wake 
de  dead  almost,  it  is  de  genuine  piticular  old  Jamaicky,  and  no 
mistake.  I  must  put  dat  bottle  back  and  give  you  todder  one,  dat 
<nust  be  wine  for  sartain,  for  it  is  chock  full,  but  rum  'vaporates 
Oery  fast  when  de  cork  is  drawn.  Missus  used  to  say,  'Sorrow, 
<neat,  when  kept,  comes  bery  hi</h,  but  rum  gets  bery  low.1  " 

"  Happy  fellow"  and  lucky  fellow  too,  for  what  .vhite  man  in 
four  situation  would  be  treated  so  kindly  and  familiarly  as  you 
are.  The  fact  is,  Doctor,  the  negroes  of  America,  as  a  class, 
whether  slaves  or  free  men,  experience  more  real  consideration, 
and  are  more  comfortable  than  the  peasants  of  almost  any  country 
m  Europe.  Their  notions  of  the  origin  of  white  men  are  very 
droll,  when  the  things  are  removed  I  will  make  him  give  you  his 
idear  on  the  subject. 

"  Sorrow,"  said  I,  "  what  color  was  Adam  and  Eve." 

"  Oh,  massa,"  said  he,  "  don't  go  for  to  ask  dis  child  what  you 
knows  yourself,  better  nor  what  he  does.  I  will  tell  you  some 
oder  time,  1  is  berry  poorly  just  now,  dis  uncountable  fog  ab  got 
into  my  bones.  Dis  is  shocking  bad  country  for  niggars ;  oh, 
dere  is  coffin  like  de  lubly  sout ;  it's  a  nateral  home  for  blackies. 

"  In  Souf  Carolina  de  niggas  grow 
If  de  white  man  will  only  plant  his  toe, 
Den  dey  water  de  ground  wid  baccy  smoke, 
And  out  ob  de  soil  dore  heads  will  poke. 

Ring  de  hoop,  blow  de  horn. 

I  nebber  sec  de  like  .nice  I  was  born. 


180  A     FOGGY     NIGHT. 

Way  down  in  de  countc-ree, 

Four  or  live  mile  from  de  ole  Pcedee. 

"  Oh,  Massa,  dis  coast  is  only  fit  fur  seals,  porpoises,  an  3  dog- 
fish,  but  n  >t  for  gentlemen,  nor  niggars,  nor  ladies.  Oh,  1  berry 
bad,"  and  he  pressed  both  hands  on  his  stomach  as  if  he  was  in 
great  pain. 

"  Perhaps  another  glass  of  old  Jamaica  would  set  you  right,"  I 
said. 

"  Massa,  what  a  most  a  grand  doctor  you  would  ab  made,"  he 
said.  "  Yah,  vah,  yah — you  know  de  wery  identical  medicine  for 
de  wery  identical  disease,  don't  you ;  dat  is  just  what  natur  was 
callin'  for  eber  so  bad." 

"  Natur,"  sais  I,  "  what's  that,  spell  it." 

"  li  u  m,"  said  he,  "dat  is  human  natur,  and  whiskey  is  soft 
sawder,  it  tickle  de  troat  so  nice  and  go  down  so  slick.  Dem  is 
de  names  my  old  missus  used  to  gib  em.  Oh,  how  she  would  a 
lubb'd  you,  if  you  had  spunked  up  to  her  and  tied  up  to  our  plan- 
tation;  she  didn't  affection  Yankees  much,  for  dein  and  dead  nig- 
gers is  too  cold  to  sleep  with,  and  cunnuchs  (Canadians)  she  hated 
like  pison,  cause  they  'ticed  off  niggars  ;  but  she'd  a  took  to  you 
naturally,  you  is  such  a  good  cook.  I  always  tink,  Massa,  when 
folks  take  to  eaten  same  breakfast,  same  lunch,  same  dinner,  same 
tea,  same  supper,  drinkin'  same  soup,  lubbin'  same  graby,  and 
'fectioning,  same  presarves  and  pickles,  and  cakes  and  pies,  and 
wine,  and  cordials,  and  ice-crearns,  den  dey  plaguy  soon  begin  to 
rambition  one  anodder,  and  when  dey  do  dat,  dey  is  sure  to  say, 
'  Sorrow,  does  you  know  how  to  make  weddin'  cake,  and  frost  him, 
and  set  him  off  partikelar  jam,  wid  vices  of  all  kinds,  little  koopids, 
and  cocks  and  hens,  and  bales  of  cotton,  figs  of  baccy,  and  ears  of 
corn,  and  all  sorts  of  pretty  things  done  in  clarified  sugar.  It  do 
seem  nateial  to  me,  for  when  our  young  niggars  go  spark'm',  and 
spendin'  evenings,  dey  most  commonly  marries.  It  stand  to  rea- 
son. But,  massa  I  is  bery  bad  indeed  wid  dis  dreadful  pain  in  my 
infernal  parts — 1  is  indeed.  "Oh,"  said  he  smackin'  his  lips,  and 
drainin'  his  glass,  "  dat  is  def  to  a  white  man,  but  life  to  a  niggar; 
dat  is  sublime.  What  a  pity  it  is  dey  make  de  glasses  so  almighty 
tunderin'  small ;  -de  man  dat  inwented  dem  couldn't  a  had  no 
remaginaltle  nose  at  all,  dat  are  a  fac." 

"  But  the  color  of  Adam,"  said  I. 

'•  Oil,  Massa,"  he  said,  "  you  knows  bery  well  he  was  a  black 
gentleman,  and  Misses  Eve  a  most  splendid  Swanga  black  lady. 
Oh,  yes,  massa,  dey  were  made  black  to  enjoy  de  grand  warm 
sun.  Well,  Cain  was  a  wicked  man,  cause"  he  killed  his  brudder. 
So  de  Lord  say  to  him  one  day,  '  Cain,  where  is  your  brudder?' 
'1  don't  know,  massa,'  said  he,^  1  d'.dn't  see  him  nowhere.'  Well, 


A        FOOU1        ,\    1  Cr   h    I '  . 

de  next  time  he  asked  him  de  sef-same  question,  and  he  answered 
quite  sarey,  '  How  in  de  world  d<>es  I  know?  I  air.t  ir.y  brudder'n 
keeper.'  Well,  afore  he  know'd  where  he  was,  de  Lori  «ai<l  lo  him, 
in  a  voice  ob  tunder,  'You  murder'd  him,  you  vilain!'  And 
Cain,  he  was  so  scared,  he  turned  white  dat  very  instant.  He 
neliber  could  stand  heat,  nor  enjoy  summer  no  more  again,  nor 
none  ob  his  childer  arter  him,  but  Abel's  children  remain  black  to 
dis  day.  Fac,  rnassa,  fac,  1  does  assure  you.  When  you  like 
supper,  massa  I" 

"  At  ten  o'c'ock,'1  sais  I. 

"  Well  den,  1  will  go  and  get  sunthen  nice  foi  you.  Oh  !  my 
ole  Missus  was  a  lubbly  cook  ;  I  don't  believe  in  my  heart  de 
Queen  ob  England  could  hold  a  candle  to  her!  shi  linowed  twenty 
two  and  a  half  ways  to  cook  Indian  corn,  and  ten  or  twelve  ob  'em 
she  in  wen  ted  herself  dat  was  de  astonishment  ob  ebbery  one." 

"  Half  a  way,"  1  said,  "  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"  Why,  Massa,  de  common  slommachy  way  people  ab  ob  boil- 
ing it  on  de  cob ;  dat  she  said  was  only  half  a  way.  Oh,  Lordy 
gracious,  one  way  she  wented,  de  corn  was  as  white  as  snow,  as 
light  as  puff,  and  so  delicate  it  disgested  itself  in  de  mout." 

"  You  can  go,"  said  Cutler. 

"  Tarikee,  Massa,"  said  Sorrow,  with  a  mingled  air  of  submission 
and  fun,  as  much  as  to  say,  "I  guess  I  don't  want  leave  for  that, 
but  I  thank  you  all  the  same  as  if  I  did,"  and  making  a  scrape  of 
his  hind-leg,  he  retired. 

'"Slick,"  said  Cutler,  "it  isn't  right  to  allow  that  nigger  to 
swallow  so  much  rum.  How  can  one  wonder  at  their  degradation, 
when  a  man  like  you  permits  them  to  drink  in  that  manner?" 

"Exactly,"  sais  I,  "you  think  and  talk  like  all  abolitionists,  as 
my  old  friend  Colonel  Crockett  used  to  say,  the  Yankees  always 
do.  He  said,  '  When  they  sent  them  to  pick  their  cherries,  they 
made  them  whistle  all  the  time,  so  that  they  couldn't  eat  any.'  I 
understand  blacks  better  than  you  do.  Lock  up  your  liquor  and 
they  will  steal  it,  for  their  moral  perceptions  are  weak.  Trust 
them,  and  teach  them  to  use,  and  not  to  abuse  it.  Do  that,  and 
they  will  be  grateful,  and  prove  themselves  trustworthy.  That 
fellow's  drinking  is  more  for  the  fun  of  the  thing,  than  the  love  of 
liquor.  Negroes  are  not  drunkards  anywhere.  They  are  droll 
boys  ;  but,  Cutler,  long  before  thrashing-machines  were  invented, 
there  was  a  command,  *  not  to  muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth  out  the 
corn.'  Put  (hat  in  your  pipe,  my  boy,  the  next  time  you  prepare 
your  Kinnikennie  for  smoking,  will  you?1' 

"  Kinnikennie,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  what  under  the  sun  is  that?" 

';  A  composition,"  sais  1,  "  of  dry  leaves  of  certain  aromatic 
placts  and  barks  of  various  kinds  of  trees,  an  excellent  substitute 
d<r  tobacco,  but  when  irixed  with  it,  something  super-superio» 


182  FKMALK     COLLEGES. 

If  we  can  get  into  the  woods,  1  will  show  you  how  to  prepare  it. 
But,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  I  build  no  theories  on  the  subject  of  (he 
Africans;  I  leave  their  construction  to  other  and  wiser  men  than 
myself.  Here  is  a  sample  of  the  raw  material ;  can  it  be  manu- 
factured into  civilization  of  a  higher  order?  Q  stands  for  query, 
don't  it?  Well,  all  I  shall  do  "is  to  put  a  Q  to  it,  and  let  politi- 
cians answer  it ;  but  I  can't  help  thinking  there  is  some  truth  in  the 
old  saw  '  where  ignorance  is  bliss,  '/is  folly  to  be  wifte  ' '' 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
FEMALE    COLLEGES. 

AFTER  Sorrow  had  retired,  we  lighted  our  cigars,  and  turned  to 
for  a  chat,  if  chat  it  can  be  called  where  I  did  most  of  the  talking 
myself. 

"  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  I  wish  I  had  had  more  time  to  have  exam- 
ined your  collection  of  minerals.  I  had  no  idea  Nova  Scotia  could 
boast  of  such  an  infinite  variety  of  them.  You  could  have  taught 
me  more  in  conversation  in  five  minutes  than  I  could  have  learned 
by  books  in  a  month.  You  are  a  mineralogist,  and  I  am  sorry  to 
say  I  aint,  though  every  boarding-school  miss,  now-a-days,  in  our 
country,  consaits  she  is.  They  are  up  to  trap  at  any  rate,  if 
nothing  else,  you  may  depend,"  and  I  gave  him  a  wink. 

"  Now  don't,  Slick,"  said  he,  "  now  don't  set  me  off,  that's  a  good 
fellow." 

"  'Mr.  Slick,'  said  a  young  lady  of  about  twelve  years  of  age,  to 
me  wunst,  '  do  you  know  what  gray  wackey  is  ?  for  I  do.' 

"  Don't  I  ?'  sais  I  ;  '  I  know  it  to  my  cost.  Lord  !  how  my  old 
master  used  to  lay  it  on  ! ' 

"  '  Lay  it  on  ! '  she  said  ;  '  I  thought  it  reposed  on  a  primitive 
bed  overlaid  by  salacious  rocks.' 

"  '  Silicious  is  the  word,  dear.' 

"  '  No,  it  aint,'  said  she  ;  '  and  I  ought  to  know,  for  the  prese- 
dentess  (Professor)  calls  it  salacious.' 

"  '  Well,  well,'  sais  I,  '  we  won't  dispute  about  words.  Still,  if 
anybody  knows  what  gray  wackey  is,  I  ought,  but  I  don't  find  it  so 
easy  to  repose  after  it  as  you  may.  Gray  means  the  gray  birch 
rod,  dear,  and  wackey  means  lay  in'  it  on.  We  always  called  it 
gray  whacky  in  school,  when  a  feller  was  catching*  particular 
Moses.' 

'"Why,  how  ignorant  you  are!'  said  she.  'Do  you  know 
what  them  mining  tarms,  clinch,  parting,  and  black  bat  means  1 ' 


FEMALE     COLLEGES.  183 

Why,  in  course  I  do!'  sais  I  ;  'clinch  is  marrying,  parting  I* 
getting  divorced,  and  black  bat  is  where  a  fellow  beats  his  wife  black 
and  blue.' 

"  '  A>oth  !'  said  she,  "  you  don't  know  nothing." 

«  i  Well,  sais  I,  '  what  do  you  know  V 

"  '  Why,'  said  she,  '1  know  Spanish  and  mathematics,  ichthiology 
and  concholo^y,  astronomy  and  dancing,  mineralogy  and  animal 
magnetism,  and  German  and  chemistry,  and  French  and  botany. 
Yes,  and  the  use  of  globes  too.  Can  you  tell  me  what  attraction 
and  repulsion  is?'' 

"  'To  be  sure  I  van,'  said  I,  'and  I  drew  her  on  my  knee,  and 
kissed  her.  'That's  attraction,  dear.'  And  when  she  kicked  and 
screamed  as  cross  as  two  cats,  '  that,  my  pretty  one,'  I  said,  '  is 
repulsion.  Now  I  know  a  great  many  things  you  don't.  Can  you 
hem  a  pocket-handkerchief?' 

" '  No.' 

"  '  Nor  make  a  pudding  ?' 

" '  No.' 

"•Nor  make  Kentucky  batter?' 

" '  No.' 

'; ;  Well,  do  you  know  any  useful  thing  in  life  ?' 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  i  can  sing,  and  play  on  the  piano,  and  write  valen- 
tines,' sais  she,  '  so  get  out.'  And  she  walked  away,  quite 
dignified,  muttering  to  herself,  '  Make  a  pudding,  eh !  well,  J 
want  to  know  !' 

"  Thinks  I  to  myself,  my  pretty  little  may -flower,  in  this  ever- 
lastin' progressive  nation  of  ourn,  where  the  wheel  of  fortune  never 
stops  turning  day  or  night,  and  them  that's  at  the  top  one  minute 
are  down  in  the  dirt  the  next,  you  may  say  '  I  want  to  know' 
before  you  die,  and  be  very  glad  to  change  your  tune,  and  say, 
'  Thank  heaven  I  do  know  !'  " 

"Is  that  a  joke  of  yours,"  said  the  doctor,  "about  the  young 
girl's  geology,  or  is  it  really  a  fact  ?'' 

"  Fact,  1  assure  you,"  said  I.  •'  And  to  prove  it  Til  tell  you  a 
story  about  a  Female  College  that  will  shew  you  what  pains  we 
take  to  spoil  our  young  ladies  to  home.  Miss  Liddy  Adams,  who 
was  proprietor  and  'dentess  (presidentess)  of  a  Female  College 
to  Onionvillc,  was  a  relation  of  mother's,  and  I  knew  her  when  she 
was  quite  a  young  sh«at  of  a  thing  to  Slickville.  I  shall  never 
forget  a  flight  into  Egypt  I  caused  once  in  her  establishment. 
Wrhen  I  returned  from  the  embassy,  I  stopped  a  day  in  Onionviile, 
near  her  university — for  that  was  the  name  she  gave  hern  ;  and 
thinks  I,  I  will  just  call  and  look  in  on  Lid  for  old  acquaintance 
sake,  and  see  how  she  is  figuring  it  out  in  life.  Well,  I  raps  away 
with  the  knocker,  as  loud  as  possible,  as  much  as  to  say,  make 
haste,  for  there  is  somebody  here,  when  a  tall  spare  gall  \\ith 


]  84  FEMALE     COLLEGES. 

a  vinegar  face,  opened  the  door  just  wide  enough  to  show  hoi- 
profile,  and  hide  her  back  gear,  and  stood  to  hear  what  I  had  to 
say.  I  never  see  so  spare  a  gall  since  1  was  raised.  Pharaoh's 
lean  kine  wurn't  the  smallest  part  of  a  circumstance  to  her.  She 
was  so  thin,  she  actilly  seemed  as  if  she  would  have  to  lean  agin 
the  wall  to  support  herself  when  she  scolded,  and  I  had  to  look 
twice  at  her  before  I  could  see  her  at  all,  for  I  warn't  sure  she 
wanCt  her  own  shadow." 

"Good  gracious  !"  said  the  Doctor,  "what  a  description!  bu 
go  on." 

"  'Is  the  mistress  at  home  V  said  I. 

"  '  1  have  no  mistress,'  said  she. 

"'I  didn't  say  you  had,' sais  I, 'for  I  knew  you  hadn't  afore 
you  spoke.' 

"  '  How  did  you  know  that  f  said  she. 

"  '  Because,'  sais  1,  '  seein'  so  handsome  a  lady  as  you,  I  thought 
you  was  one  of  the  professors  ;  and  then  I  thought  you  must  be 
the  mistress  herself,  and  was  a  thinking  how  likely  she  had  grow'd 
since  1  seed  her  last.  Are  you  one  of  the  class-teachers  V 

"  It  bothered  her  ;  she  didn't  know  whether  it  was  impudence 
or  admiration;  but  when  a  woman  arbitrates  on  a  case  she  is 
interested  i«,  she  always  (jives  an  award  in  her  o>rn  favor. 

"'Walk  in,  Sir,'  said  she,  'and  i  will  see,'  and  she  backed  and 
backed  before  me,  not  out  of  deference  to  me,  but  to  the  hooks  oi 
her  gown,  and  threw  a  door  open.  On  the  opposite  si<le  was  a 
large  room  filled  with  galls,  peeping  and  looking  over  each  other's 
shoulders  at  me,  for  it  was  intermission. 

"  '  Are  these  your  pupils  V  sais  I ;  and  before  she  could  speak,  I 
went  right  past  into  the  midst  of  'em.  Oh,  what  a  scuddin'  and 
screamin'  there  was  among  them!  A  rocket  explodin'  there 
couldn't  a'  done  more  mischief.  They  tumbled  over  chairs, 
upsot  tables,  and  went  head  and  heels  over  each  other  like  any- 
thing, shouting  out,  '  A  man  !  a  man  !' 

"  '  Where — where  ?'  sais  I,  a-chasin'  of  them,  '  show  him  to  me, 
and  I'll  soon  clear  him  out.  What  is  he  a-doing  of?' 

"  It  was  the  greatest  fun  you  ever  see.  Out  they  flew  through 
the  door  at  the  other  eend  of  the  room,  some  up  and  some  down- 
stairs, singing  out,  '  A  man  !  a  man  !'  till  I  thought  they  would 
have  hallooed  their  daylights  out.  Away  I  flew  after  them,  calling 
out,  '  Where  is  he?  show  him  to  me.  and  I'll  soon  pitch  into  him  !' 
when  who  should  I  see  but  Miss  Lidcly  in  the  entry,  as  stiff  and  as 
starch  as  a  stand-up  shirt  collar  of  a  frosty  day.  'She  looked  like 
a  large  pale  icicle,  standing  up  on  its  broad  end,  and  cold  enough 
to  give  you  the  ague  to  look  at  her. 

"'Mr.  Slick,'  said  she,  'may  1  asK  what  is  the  meaning  of  all 
this  unseemly  behavior  in  the  presence  of  young  ladies  of  the  first 
families  in  the  State  V 


FKMALK     COLLEGES.  185 

"Says  I,  'Miss  Adam,'  for  as  she  used  the  word  Mr.  as  a 
handle  to  me,  1  thought  1'de  take  a  pull  at  the  Miss,  'some  robber 
or  house-breaker  has  got  in,  I  rather  think,  and  scared  the  young 
femeniite  students,  for  they  seemed  to  be  running  after  somebody, 
and  1  thought  1  would  assist  them.' 

"  'May  I  ask,  Sir,'  a-drawin'  of  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  as 
straight  and  as  prim  as  a  Lombardy  poplar,  or  rather,  a  bull-rush, 
for  that's  all  one  size.  '  May  I  ask,  Sir,  what  is  the  object  of  your 
visit  here — at  a  place  where  no  gentlemen  are  received  but  the 
parents  or  guardians  of  some  of  the  children.' 

"  I  was  as  mad  as  a  hatter  ;  I  felt  a  little  bit  vain  of  the  embassy 
to  London,  and  my  Paris  dress,  particularly  my  boots  and  gloves, 
and  all  that,  and  I  will  admit,  there  is  no  use  talkin',  I  rather 
kinder  sorter  thought  she  would  be  proud  of  the  connection.  I 
am  a  good  natured  man  in  a  general  way,  when  I  am  pleased,  but 
it  ain't  safe  to  ryle  me,  I  tell  you.  When  I  am  spotty  on  the  back, 
I  am  dangerous.  I  bit  in  my  breath,  and  tried  to  look  cool,  for  I 
was  determined  to  take  revenge  out  of  her. 

" '  Allow  me  to  say,  Sir,'  said  she,  a  perkin'  up  her  mouth  like 
the  end  of  a  silk  purse,  'that  1  think  your  intrusion  is  as  unwel- 
come as  it  is  unpardonable.  May  I  ask  the  favor  of  you  to  with- 
draw? if  not,  I  must  introduce  you  to  the  watchman.' 

"  '  I  came,'  sais  I,  '  Miss  Adam,  having  heard  of  your  distin 
guished  college  in  the  saloons  of  Paris  and  London,  to  make  a 
proposal  to  you  ;  but,  like  a  bull — ' 

"  'Oh,  dear !'  said  she, '  to  think  I  should  have  lived  to  hear  such 
a  horrid  word  in  this  abode  of  learning!' 

"'But,'  1  went  on,  without  stopping,  'like  a  bull  in  a  chiny- 
shop,  I  see  I  have  got  into  the  wrong  pew;  so  nothin'  remains  but 
for  me  to  beg  pardon,  keep  my  proposal  for  where  it  will  be 
civilly  received,  at  least,  and  back  out.' 

"She  was  as  puzzled  as  the  maid.  But  women  ain't  throwed 
off  their  guard  easily.  If  they  are  in  a  dark  place,  they  can  feel 
their  way  out,  if  they  can't  see  it.  So,  says  she,  dubious-like : 

'; '  About  a  child,  I  suppose  ?' 

" '  It  is  customary  in  Europe,'  sais  I,  '  I  believe,  to  talk  about 
the  marriage  first,  isn't  it  ?  but  I  have  been  so  much  abroad,  I  am 
not  certified  as  to  usages  here.' 

"  Oh,  warn't  she  brought  to  a  hack  !  She  had  a  great  mind  to 
order  me  out,  but  then  that  word  'proposal'  was  one  she  had  only 
seen  in  a  dictionary — she  had  never  heard  it ;  and  it  is  such  a 
pretty  one,  and  sounded  so  nice  to  the  ear ;  and  then  that  word 
'marriage'  was  used  also,  so  it  carried  the  day. 

li  'This  is  not  a  place,  Mr.  Slick,  for  foundlings,  I'de  have  you  to 
know.'  said  she,  with  an  air  of  disgust,  'but  children  whose  parents 
are  of  the  first  '-lass  of  society.  If,'  and  she  paused  and  looked  at 


F  E  M  A  L.  K     Col.  F,  i:  G  K  ff 

r.ie  scrutinisin', — 'if  your  proposals  are  of  that  nature,  walk  iu 
here,  Sir,  if  you  please,  where  our  conversation  will  not  be  over- 
heard. Pray  be  seated.  May  1  ask,  what  is  the  nature  of  th*» 
proposition  with  which  you  design  to  honor  me  f  and  she  gave  me 
a  smile  that  would  pass  for  one  of  graciousness  and  sweet  temper, 
or  of  encouragement.  It  hadn't  a  decided  character,  and  was  a 
••on-committal  one.  She  was  doin'  quite  the  lady,  hut  1  conceited 
ner  ear  was  itching  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say,  for  she  put  a  finger 
up,  with  a  beautiful  diamond  ring,  and  brushed  a  fly  off  with  it ; 
but,  after  all,  perhaps  it  was  only  to  show  her  lily-white  hand, 
which  merely  wanted  a  run  at  grass  on  the  after-feed  to  fatten  it 
up,  and  make  it  look  quite  beautiful. 

"'Certainly,'  sais  I,  'you  may  ask  any  question  of  the  kind  you 
like.' 

"It  took  her  aback,  for  she  requested  leave  to  ask,  and  I  granted 
it ;  but  she  meant  it  different. 

"Thinks  I,  ' My  pretty  grammarian,  there  is  a  little  grain  of 
difference  between  "  May  1  ask,"  and  "  1  must  ask."  Try  it  again.' 

"She  didn't  speak  for  a  minute;  so,  to  relieve  her,  sais  I, 

" '  When  I  look  round  here,  and  see  how  charmingly  you  are 
located,  and  what  your  occupation  is,  I  hardly  think  you  would  feel 
disposed  to  leave  it ;  so  perhaps  I  may  as  well  forbear  the  pro- 
posal, as  it  isn't  pleasant  to  be  refused.' 

"  '  It  depends,'  she  said,  '  upon  \\  hat  the  nature  of  those  proposals 
are,  Mr.  Slick,  and  who  makes  them,'  and  this  time  she  did  give  a 
look  of  great  complacency  and  kindness.  '  Do  put  down  your 
hat,  Sir.  1  have  read  your  Clockmaker,'  >he  continued  ;  '  1  really 
feel  quite  proud  of  the  relationship;  but  1  hope  you  will  excuse 
rne  for  asking,  why  did  you  put  your  own  name  to  it,  and  call  it 
"Sam  Slick  the  Clockmaker,"  now  that  you  are  a  distinguished 
diplomatist,  and  a  member  of  our  embassy  at  the  court  of  Victoria 
the  First  ?  It's  not  an  elegant  appellation  that,'  sais  she,  '  is  it  V 
(She  had  found  her  tongue  now).  'Sam  Slick  the  Clockmaker,  a 
factorist  of  wooden  clocks  especially,  sounds  trady,  and  will  impede 
the  rise  of  a  colossal  reputation,  which  has  already  one  foot  in  the 
St.  Lawrence,  and  the  other  in  the  Mississippi.' 

" '  And  sneezes  in  the  Chesapeake,'  sais  I. 

" '  Oh,'  said  she,  in  the  blandest  manner,  '  how  like  you,  Mr. 
Slick  !  you  don't  spare  a  joke,  even  on  yourself.  You  see  fun  in 
everything.' 

"'Better,'  sais  I,  'than  seeing  harm  in  everything,  as  them 
galls  — ' 

"  '  Young  ladies,'  said  she. 

'"Well,  young  ladies,  who  saw  harm  in  me  because  I  was  a 
man.  What  harm  is  there  in  their  seeing  a  man?  You  ain't 
frightened  at  one,  are  you,  Liddy  V 


FEMALE     COLLEGES.  1ST 

"  She  evaded  that  with  a  smile,  as  much  as  to  say, '  Well,  I  ain't 
much  skeered,  that's  a  fact.' 

"'Mr.  Slick,  it  is  a  subject  not  worth  while  pursuing,'  she  re- 
plied. '  You  know  the  sensitiveness,  nervous  delicacy,  and  scru- 
pulous innocence  of  the  fair  sex  in  this  country,  and  I  may  speak 
plainly  to  you  as  a  man  of  the  world.  You  must  perceive  how 
destructive  of  all  modesty  in  their  juvenile  minds,  when  impressions 
are  so  easily  made,  it  would  be  to  familiarize  their  youthful  eyes 
to  the  larger  limbs  of  gentleman  enveloped  in  pantaloons.  To 
speak  plainly,  I  am  sure  I  needn't  tell  }ou  it  ain't  decent.' 

;' '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  it  wouldn't  be  decent  if  they  wern't  enveloped 
in  them.' 

"  She  locked  down  to  blush,  but  it  didn't  come  natural,  so  she 
looked  up  and  smiled,  (as  much  as  to  say,  Do  get  out,  you  impu- 
dent critter.  I  know  it's  bunkum  as  well  as  you  do,  but  don't 
bother  me.  I  have  a  part  to  play.)  Then  she  rose  and  looked  at 
her  watch,  and  said  the  lecture-hour  f«»r  botany  had  come. 

'"  Well,'  sais  1,  a  taking  up  my  hat,  'that's  a  charming  study, 
the  loves  of  the  plants,  fur  young  ladies,  ain't  it?  they  begin  with 
natur,  you  see,  and  — '  (well,  she  couldn't  help  laughing).  'But  I 
see  you  are  engaged.' 

'• '  Me  ?'  said  she,  '  1  assure  you,  Sir,  I  know  people  used  to  say 
so,  afore  General  Peleg  Smith  went  to  Texas.' 

'•'What,  that  scallaw.-ig  ?' said  I.  'Why,  that  fellow  ought  to 
be  kicked  out  of  all  refined  society.  How  could  you  associate 
with  a  man  who  had  no  more  decency  than  to  expect  folks  to  call 
him  by  name  !' 

" '  How  ?'  said  she. 

"'  Why,'  sais  I,  'what  delicate-minded  woman  could  ever  bring 
herself  to  say  Pe-leg.  If  he  had  called  himself  Ilujacious  Smith, 
or  Largerlimb  Smith,  or  something  of  that  kind,  it  would  have 
done,  but  Pe/<?$r  is  downright  ondeacent.  1  had  to  leave  Boston 
wunst  a  whole  winter,  for  making  a  mistake  of  that  kind.  I  mei 
Miss  Sperm  one  day  from  Nantucket,  and,  says  I,  'Did  you  see 
me  yesterday,  with  those  two  elegant  galls  from  Albany  ]' 

"  '  No,'  said  she,  '  1  didn't.' 

"  'Strange,  too,'  said  I,  'for  I  was  most  sure  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  you  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and  I  wanted  to  introduce 
you  to  them,  but  warn't  quite  sartain  it  was  you.  My,'  sais  I, 
'  didn't  you  see  a  very  unfashionable  dressed  man,'  (and  I  looked 
down  at  my  Paris  boots,  as  if  I  was  doing  modest,)  '  with  two 
angeliferous  females.  Why,  I  had  a  leg  on  each  arm.' 

"  '  She  fairly  screamed  out  at  that  expression,  rushed  into  a 
milliner's  shop,  and  cried  like  a  gardener's  watering-pot.  The 
names  she  called  me  ain't  no  matter.  They  were  the  two  Miss 
Legge's  of  Albany,  and  cut  a  tall  swarth,  1  tell  you,  for  thuy  say 


188  FEMAI.  K     COLLEGK8. 

they  are  descended  from  a  governor  of  Nova  Scotia,  when  good 
mer.,  according  to  their  tell,  could  be  found  for  governors,  and  that 
their  relations  in  England  are  sorae  pumpkins,  too.  I  was  as  innc 
cent  as  a  child,  Letty.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  she,  'you  are  the  most  difficult  man  to  understand 
I  ever  see — there  is  no  telling  whether  you  are  in  fun  or  in  earnest. 
But  as  I  was  a-saying,  there  was  some  such  talk  afore  General 
Smith  went  to  Texas ;  but  that  story  was  raised  by  the  Pawtaxet 
College  folks,  to  injure  this  institution.  They  did  all  they  could  to 
tear  my  reputation  to  chitlins.  Me  engaged,  I  should  like  to  see 
the  man  that — '. 

"  '  Well,  you  seemed  plaguey  soared  at  one  just  now,'  sais  I. 
•  I  am  sure  it  was  a  strange  way  to  show  you  would  like  to  see  a 
man.' 

" '  I  didn't  say  that,'  she  replied,  'but  you  take  one  up  so  quick.' 

"  '  It's  a  way  1  have.'  said  1  '  and  always  had,  since  you  and  I 
was  to  singing-school  together,  and  larnt  sharps,  flats,  and  naturals. 
It  was  a  crotchet  of  mine,'  ami  I  just  whipped  my  arm  round  her 
waist,  took  her  up  and  kisspd  her,  afore  she  knowed  where  she 
was.  Oh  Lordy  !  Out  came  her  comb,  and  down  fell  her  hair  to 
her  waist,  like  a  mill  dam  broke  loose;  and  two  false  curls  and  a 
braid  fell  on  the  floor,  and  her  *Vill  took  to  dancin'  round,  and  got 
wrong  side  afore,  and  one  of  her  shoes  slipt  off,  and  she  really 
looked  as  if  she  had  been  in  an  indgean-scrimmage,  and  w*s  ready 
f»r  scalpin. 

"'Then  you  aint  engaged,  Lic'dy,'  sais  I;  'how  glad  I  am  to 
hear  that ;  it  makes  my  heart  jump  ;  and  cherries  is  ripe  now, 
and  I  will  help  you  into  the  tree,  a.*  l  used  to  did  when  you  and  I 
was  boy  and  gall  together.  It  does  ^oem  so  nateral,  Liddy,  to  hav« 
a  game  of  romps  with  you  again ;  it  makes  me  feel  as  young  HS  a 
two-year-old.  How  beautiful  you  do  Jook,  too  !  My,  what  a  pity 
you  is  shut  up  here,  with  these  young  g:Mls  all  day,  talking  by  the 
yard,  about  the  corrallas,  calv xes,  and  staminas  of  flowers,  while 
you 

" '  Are  doomed  to  blush  m  *€en, 
And  waste  your  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.' 

"  '  Oh,'  said  she,  '  Sam,  I  must  cut  and  tun,  an^  "  blush  unseen," 
that's  a  fact,  or  I'm  ruinated,'  and  she"  up  curls,  comb,  braid,  and 
shoe,  and  off  like  a  shot  into  a  bed-room  that  adjoinV  the  parlor, 
and  bolted  the  door,  and  double-locked  it,  as  if  she  was  afraid  an 
attachment  was  to  be  levied  on  her  and  her  chattels,  by  the  sheriff, 
and  1  was  a  burn-bailiff. 

li  Thinks  1,  old  gall,  I'll  pay  you  off  for  treating  me  the-.  \^y  you 
did  just  now,  as  sure  as  the  world.  '  May  I  ask,  Mr.  Slick,  what 
is  the  object  of  this  visit  ?'  A  pretty  way  to  receive  a  cousin  tiuu 


FEMALE     COLLEGES.  189 

you  haven't  seen  so  long,  aint  it  ?  and  though  I  say  it,  that  shouldn't 
say  it,  that  cousin,  too,  Sam  Slick,  the  attache  to  our  embassy  to 
the  Court  of  Victoria,  Buckingham  Palace.  You  couldn't  a  treated 
me,  wuss,  if  I  had  been  one  of  the  liveried,  powdered,  bedizened, 
be-bloated  footmen  from  't'other  big  house  there  of  Aunt  Har- 
riette's.'  I'll  make  you  come  down  from  your  stilts,  and  walk 
naterel,  I  know,  see  if  I  don't. 

"  Presently  she  returned,  all  set  to  rights,  and  a  little  righter, 
too,  for  she  had  put  a  touch  of  rouge  on  to  make  the  blush  stick 
better,  and  her  hair  was  slicked  up  snugger  than  before,  and  looked 
as  'f  ii  had  growed  like  anything.  She  had  also  slipped  a  handsome 
habit-shirt  on,  and  she  looked,  take  her  altogether,  as  if,  though  she 
warn't  engaged,  she  ought  to  have  been  afore  the  last  five  hot  sum- 
mers  came,  and  the  general  thaw  had  commenced  in  the  spring, 
and  she  had  got  thin,  and  out  of  condition.  She  put  her  hand  on 
her  heart,  and  said,  '  I  am  so  skared,  Sam,  I  feel  all  over  of  a  twit- 
teration.  The  way  you  act  is  horrid.' 

'•  'So  do  I,'  sais  1,  '  Liddy,  it's  so  long  since  you  and  I  used  to — ' 
X.  *' '  You  aint  altered  a  bit,  Sam,'  said  she,  for  the  starch  was  com- 
ing out,  '  from  what  you  was,  only  you  are  more  forrider.  Our 
young  men,  when  they  go  abroad,  come  back  and  talk  so  free  and 
easy,  and  take  such  liberties,  and  say  it's  the  fashion  in  Paris,  it's 
quite  scandalous.  Now,  if  you  dare  to  do  the  like  again,  I'll  never 
speak  to  you  the  longest  day  I  ever  live,  I'll  go  right  off  and  leave, 
see  if  I  don't.' 

"•  '  Oh,  I  see,  I  have  offended  you,'  sais  I ;  '  \  on  are  not  in  a  hu- 
mor to  consent  now,  so  1  will  call  again  some  other  time.' 

"  '  This  lecture  on  botany  must  now  be  postponed,'  she  said, '  for 
the  hour  is  out  some  time  ago.  If  you  will  be  seated,  I  will  set 
the  young  students  at  embroidery,  instead,  and  return  for  a  short 
time,  for  it  does  seem  so  naterel  to  see  you,  Sam,  you  saucy  boy,' 
and  she  pinched  my  ear,  '  it  reminds  one,  don't  it,  of  by-gones?1 
and  she  hung  her  head  a-one  side,  and  looked  sentimental. 

"  '  Of  by-gone  larks,'  said  I. 

" '  Hush,  Sam,'  she  said,  '  don't  talk  so  loud,  that's  a  dear  soul. 
Oh,  if  anybody  had  come  in  just  then,  and  caught  us.' 

(kt '  7  Miinks  I  to  myself,  '  I  thought  you  had  no  objection  to 
it,  and  only  struggled  enough  for  modesty -like ;  and  I  did  think  you 
would  have  said,  caught  you?) 

" '  I  would  have  been  ruinated  for  ever  and  ever,  and  arnen,  and 
the  college  broke  up,  and  my  position  in  the  literary,  scientific,  and 
intellectual  world  scorched,  withered,  and  blasted  for  ever.  Ainl 
mv  cheek  all  burning,  Sam  ]  it  feels  as  if  it  was  all  a  fire  ;'  and  she 
piit  it  near  enough  for  rne  to  see,  and  feel  tempted  beyond  my 
strength.  '  Don't  it  look  horrid  inflamed,  dear  V  And  she  danced 
out  of  the  room,  as  if  she  was  skipping  a  rope. 


190  FEMALE     COLLEGES. 

•'  Well,  well,"  sais  I,  when  she  took  herself  off.  "  What  a  world 
tliis  is.  This  is  evangelical  learning;  girls  are  taught  in  one  room 
to  faint  or  scream  if  they  see  a  man,  as  if  he  was  an  incarnation 
of  sin ;  and  yet  they  are  all  educated  and  trained  to  think  the  sole 
object  of  life  is  to  win,  not  convert,  but  win  one  of  these  sinners. 
In  the  next  room,  propriety,  dignity,  and  decorum,  romp  with  a 
man  in  a  way  to  make  even  his  sallow  face  blush.  Teach  a  child 
there  is  harm  in  everything,  however  innocent,  and  so  soon  as  it 
discovers  the  cheat,  it  won't  see  no  sin  in  anything.  That's  the 
reason  deacons'  sons  seldom  turn  out  well,  and  preachers'  daughters 
are  married  through  a  window.  Innocence  is  the  sweetest  thing  in 
the  world,  and  there  is  more  of  it  than  folks  generally  imagine.  11 
you  want  some  to  transplant,  don't  seek  it  in  the  inclosures  of  cant, 
for  it  has  only  counterfeit  ones,  but  go  to  -the  gardens  of  truth  and 
of  sense.  Coerced  innocence  is  like  an  imprisoned  lark,  open  the 
door  and  it's  off  for  ever.  The  bird  that  roams  through  the  sky 
and  the  grove  unrestrained,  knows  how  to  dodge  the  hawk  and  pro- 
tect itself,  but  the  caged  one,  the  mornenf  it  leaves  its  bars  and 
bolts  behind,  is  pounced  upon  by  the  fowler  or  the  vulture. 

"  Puritans,  whether  in  or  out  of  the  church  (for  there  is  a  whole 
squad  of  'em  in  it,  like  rats  in  a  house  who  eat  up  its  bread  and 
Undermine  its  wall,)  make  more  sinners  than  they  save,  by  a  long 
chalk.  They  ain't  content  with  real  sin,  the  pattern  ain't  sufficient 
for  a  cloak,  so  they  sew  on  several  breadths  of  artificial  offences, 
and  that  makes  one  big  enough  to  wrap  round  them,  and  cover  their 
own  deformity.  It  enlarges  the  margin,  and  the  book,  and  gives 
more  texts. 

"Their  eyes  are  like  the  great  magnifier  at  the  Polytechnic,  that 
shows  you  many-headed,  many-armed,  many-footed  and  many-tailed 
awful  monsters  in  a  drop  of  water,  which  were  never  intended  for 
us  to  see,  or  Providence  would  have  made  our  eyes  like  Lord 
Rosse's  telescope,  (which  discloses  the  secrets  of  the  moon.)  and 
given  us  springs  that  had  none  of  these  canables  in  Yin.  Water  is 
our  drink,  and  it  was  made  for  us  to  take  when  we  were  drv,  and  be 
thankful.  After  I  first  saw  one  of  these  drops,  like  an  old  cheese 
chock  full  of  livin'  things,  I  couldn't  drink  nothing  but  pure  gin  or 
brandy  for  a  week.  I  was  scared  to  death.  1  consulted  when  1 
went  to  bed  I  could  audibly  feel  these  critters  fightin'  like  Turks  and 
mining  my  inerds,  and  I  got  narvous  lest  my  stomach,  like  a  citadel 
might  be  blowed  up  and  the  works  destroyed.  It  was  frightful. 

"  At  last  1  sot  up  and  said,  Sam,  where  is  all  your  common  sense 
gone.  You  used  to  have  a  considerable  sized  phial  of  it,  1  hope  you 
ain't  lost  the  cork  and  let  it  all  run  out.  So  I  put  mvself  in  th« 
witness  stand,  and  asked  myself  a  few  questions. 

"  '  Water  was  made  to  drink,  warn't  it]' 

"  '  That's  a  fact.' 


FEMALE     COLLEGES.  191 

"'You  can't  see  them  critters  in  it  with  your  naked  eye?' 

M  '  I  can't  see  them  at  all,  neither  naked  or  dressed.' 

"  'Then  it  warn't  intended  you  should1?' 

M '  Seems  as  if  it  wasn't,'  sais  I. 

"  'Then  drink,  and  don't  be  skeered.' 

"'I'll  be  darned  if  I  don't,  for  who  knows  them  wee-monstrosi 
ties  don't  help  digestion,  or  feed  on  human  pyson.  They  warn't 
put  into  Adam's  ale  for  nothin',  that's  a  fact.' 

"  It  seems  as  if  they  warn't,'  sais  I.     *So  now  go  to  sleep.' 

"Well,  puritans'  eyes  are  like  them  magnifiers;  they  see  the 
devil  in  everything  but  themselves,  where  he  is  plaguy  apt  to  be 
found  by  them  that  want  him ;  for  he  feels  at  home  in  their  com- 
pany. One  time  they  vow  he  is  a  dancin'  master,  and  moves  his 
feet  so  quick  folks  can't  see  they  are  cloven,  another  time  a  music 
master,  and  teaches  children  to  open  their  mouths  and  not  their 
nostrils  in  singing.  Now  he  is  a  tailor  or  milliner,  and  makes 
fashionable  garments,  and  then  a  manager  of  a  theatre,  which  is  the 
most  awful  place  in  the  world  ;  it  is  a  reflex  of  life,  and  the  reflec- 
tion is  always  worse  than  the  original,  as  a  man's  shadow  is  more 
dangerous  than  he  is.  But  worst  of  all,  they  solemnly  affirm,  for 
they  don't  swear,  he  comes  sometimes  in  lawn  sleeves,  and  looks 
likes  a  bishop,  which  is  popery,  or  in  the  garb  of  high  churchmen, 
who  are  all  Jesuits.  Is  it  any  wonder  these  cantin'  fellows  pervert 
the  understanding,  sap  the  principles,  corrupt  the  heart,  and  destroy 
tlie  happiness  of  so  many  ?  Poor  dear  old  Minister  used  to  say4 
'  Sam,  you  must  instruct  your  conscience,  for  an  ignorant  or  super- 
stitious conscience  is  a  snare  to  the  unwary.  If  you  think  a  thing 
is  wrong  that  is  not,  and  do  it,  then  you  sin,  because  you  are  doing 
what  you  believe  in  your  heart  to  be  wicked.  It  is  the  intention 
that  constitutes  the  crime.'  Those  sour  crouts,  therefore,  by  crea- 
ting artificial  and  imitation  sin  in  such  abundance,  make  real  sin  of 
no  sort  of  consequence,  and  the  world  is  so  chock  full  of  it,  a  fellow 
gets  careless  at  last  and  wont  get  out  of  its  way,  it's  so  much  trouble 
to  pick  his  steps. 

"  Well,  1  was  off*  in  a  brown  study  so  deep  about  artificial  sins, 
1  didn't  hear  Liddy  come  in,  she  shut  the  door  so  softly  and  trod 
on  tiptoes  so  light  on  the  carpet.  The  first  thing  I  knew  was,  1  felt 
hu-r  hands  on  my  head  as  she  stood  behind  me,  a  dividen  of  my 
hair  with  her  fingers. 

"  '  Why,  Sam,'  said  she,  'as  I'm  a  liviu'  sinner  if  you  aint  got 
some  white  hairs  in  your  head,  and  there  is  a  little  bald  patch  here 
right  on  the  crown.  How  strange  it  is  !  It  only  seems  like  yeste*- 
day  you  was  a  curly-headed  boy.' 

"  '  Yes,'  sais  I,  and  1  hove  a  sigh  so  loud  it  made  the  window  jar ; 
'but  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  trouble  since  then.  1  lost  t«o 
wives  in  Europe.' 


192  FEMALE     COLLEGES. 

"'Now  do  tell,'  said  she.  Why  you  don't! — oh,  jimmir.y 
criminy  !  -  two  wives!  How  was  it,  poor  Sam?'  and  she  kissed 
the  bald  spot  on  my  pate,  and  took  a  rot-kin'  chair  and  sat  opposite 
to  me,  and  began  roekin'  backwards  and  forwards  like  a  fellow 
sawing  wood.  'How  was  it,  Sam,  dear?' 

"  '  Why,'  sais  1,  '  first  and  foremost,  Liddy,  I  married  a  fashion- 
able  lady  to  London.  Well,  bein'  out  night  arter  night  at  balls 
and  operas/and  what  not,  she  got  kinder  used  up  and  beat  out,  and 
unbeknownst  to  me  used  to  take  opium.  Well,  one  night  she  took 
too  much,  and  in  the  morning  she  was  as  dead  as  a  herring.' 

"  'Did  she  make  a  pretty  corpse?'  said  Lid,  look'm'  very  sancti- 
monious. 'Did  she  lay  out  handsum?  They  say  prussic  acid 
makes  lovely  corpses;  it  keeps  the  eyes  from  falling  in.  Next  to 
dyin'  happy,  the  greatest  thing  is  to  die  pretty.  Ugly  corpses 
frighten  sinners,  but  elegant  ones  win  them.' 

'•'The  most  lovely  subject  you  ever  beheld,'  said  I.  'She 
looked  as  if  she  was  only  asleep  ;  she  didn't  stiffen  at  all,  but  was 
as  limber  as  ever  you  see.  Her  hair  fell  over  her  neck  and  shoulders 
in  beautiful  curls  just  like  yourn  ;  and  she  had  on  her  fingers  the 
splendid  diamond  rings  I  gave  her  ;  she  was  too  fatigued  to  take 
'em  off  when  she  retired  the  night  afore.  I  felt  proud  of  her  even 
in  death,  I  do  assure  you.  She  was  handsome  enough  to  eat.  I 
went  to  ambassador's  to  consult  him  about  the  funeral,  whether  it 
should  be  a  state  affair,  with  all  the  whole  diplomatic  corps  of  the 
court  to  attend  it,  or  a  private  one.  But  he  advised  a  private  one; 
he  said  it  best  comported  with  our  dignified  simplicity  as  republi 
cans,  and,  although  cost  was  no  object,  still  it  was  satisfactory  tr 
know  it  was  far  less  expense.  When  1  came  back  she  was  gone.' 

"'Gone!'  said  Liddy,  'gone  where?' 

" '  Gone  to  the  devil,  dear,  I  suppose.' 

"'Oh  my!'  said  she.  '  Well,  i  never,  in  all  my  born  days! 
Oh,  Sam,  is  that  the  way  to  talk  of  the  dead  !' 

"  '  In  the  dusk  of  the  evening,'  sais  I,  '  a  carriage,  they  said, 
drove  to  the  door,  and  a  cofh'n  was  carried  up-stairs  ;  but  the 
undertaker  said  it  wouldn't  fit,  and  it  was  taken  back  again  for  a 
larger  one.  Just  afore  I  went  to  bed,  I  went  to  the  room  to  have 
another  look  at  her,  and  she  was  gone,  and  there  was  a  letter  on 
the.  table  for  me  ;  it  contained  a  few  words  only.  '  Dear  Sam,  my 
first  husband  is  come  to  life,  and  so  have  1.  Good-bve,  love." 

'"  Well,  what  did  you  do  f 

"  '  Gave  it  out,'  said  1,  '  she  died  of  the  cholera,  and  had  to  be 
buried  quick  and  private,  and  no  one  never  knew  to  the  con 
trary.' 

"  'Didn't  it  'most  break  your  heart,  Sammy  ?' 

"  '  No,'  sais  I.  '  In  her  hurry,  she  took  my  dressing-case  instead 
of  hw  own,  in  which  was  all  her  own  jewels,  besides  those  I  gave 


FEMALE     OOLLEQ1C8.  193 

her,  and  all  our  ready -money.  So  I  tried  to  resign  myself  to  my 
loss,  for  it  might  have  been  worse,  you  know,'  and  I  looked  as  good 
as  pie. 

" 4  Well,  if  that  don't  beat  all,  I  declare !'  said  she. 

"  '  Liddy.'  sais  I,  with  a  mock  solemcoly  air,  'every  bane  has  its 
antidote,  and  every  misf«>riune  its  peculiar  consolation.' 

"  '  Oh,  Sam,  that  showed  the  want  of  a  high  moral  intellectual 
education,  didn't  it  ?'  said  she.  '  And  yet  you  had  the  courage  to 
marry  again  ?' 

"  '  Well,  1  married,'  sais  I,  'next year  in  France  a  lady  who  had 
refused  one  of  Louis  Philip's  sons.  Oh,  what  a  splendid  gall  she 
was,  Liddy  !  she  was  the  star  of  Paris.  Poor  thing  !  1  lo~t  her  in 
six  weeks.' 

" '  Six  weeks !     Oh,  Solomon  !'  said  she,  '  in  six  weeks  !" 

"  '  Yes,'  sais  I,  '  in  six  short  weeks.' 

"'How  was  it,  Sam?  do  tell  me  all  about  it;  it's  quite  roman- 
tic. I  vow,  it's  like  the  Arabian  Nights  Entertainment.  You  are 
so  unlucky,  I  swow  I  should  be  skeered — ' 

"'At  what?'  sais  1. 

"'  Why,  at-' 

"She  was  caught  there ;  she  was  agoin'  to  say,  'At  marry  in' 
you,'  but  as  she  was  a-leadin'  of  me  on,  that  wouldn't  do.  Doctor, 
you  may  catch  a  gall  sometimes,  but  if  she  has  a  mind  to,  she  can 
escape  if  she  chooses,  for  they  are  as  slippery  as  eels.  So  she  pre 
teiitli-d  to  hesitate  on,  till  I  asked  her  again. 

"  '  Why,'  sais  she,  a  looking  down,  4  at  sleeping  alone  to-night, 
after  hearing  of  these  dreadful  catastrophes.' 

"  '  Oh,'  sais  I,  '  is  that  all  ?' 

" '  But  how  did  you  lose  her  ?'  said  she. 

"  '  Why  she  raced  off,'  said  I. '  with  the  Turkish  ambassador,  and 
if  I  had  got  a  hold  of  him,  1'de  a  lammed  him  wuss  than  the  devil 
bsatin'  tan-bark,  I  know.  I'de  a  had  his  melt,  if  there  was  a 
bowie-knife  out  of  Kentucky.' 

" '  Did  you  go  after  her  ?' 

"  Yes;  but  she  cotched  it  afore  I  cotched  her.' 

"  '  How  was  that,  Sam  ?' 

' "  Why,  she  wanted  to  sarve  him  the  same  way,  with  an  officer 
of  the  Russian  Guards,  and  Mahomet  caught  her,  sewed  her  up  in 
a  sack,  and  throwed  her  neck  and  crop  into  the  Bosphorus,  to  fak- 
ten  eels  for  the  Greek  ladies  to  keep  Lent  with.' 

"'  Why,  how  could  you  be  so  unfortunate?'  said  she. 

"'That's  a  question  I  have  often  axed  myself.  Liddy,' sais  I; 
1  but  I  have  come  to  this  conclusion  :  London  and  Paris  ain't  no 
place  for  galls  to  be  trained  in.' 

•'  'So  1  have  always  said,  and  always  will  maintain  to  my  dying 
day,  she  said,  rising  with  great  animation  and  pride.  '  What  da 


194  FEMALE     COLL  K  OK  3. 

they  teach  there  but  music,  dancing,  and  drawing?  The  deuce  » 
thing  else;  but  here  is  Spanish,  French,  German,  Italian,  botany 
geology,  mineralogy,  icthiology,  corichology,  theology — •' 

" ;  Do  you  teach  angeolology  and  doxyology  V  sais  I. 

" '  Yes,  angeolology  and  doxyology,'  she  said,  not  knowing  what 
she  was  a-talking  about. 

"  '  And  occult  sciences  ?'  sais  I. 

"'Yes,  all  the  sciences.  London  and  Paris,  eh!  Ask  a  lady 
from  either  place  if  she  knows  the  electric  battery  from  the  mag- 
netic— 

"  '  Or  a  needle  from  a  pole,'  sais  I. 

" '  Yes,'  sais  she,  without  listening,  '  or  any  such  question,  and 
see  if  she  can  answer  it.' 

"  She  resumed  her  seat. 

•' '  Forgive  my  enthusiasm,'  she  said,  '  Sam,  you  know  I  always 
had  a  great  deal  of  that.' 

"'  J  know,'  said  I,  'you  had  the  smallest  foot  and  ankle  of  any- 
body in  our  country.  My  !  what  fine-spun  glass  heels  you  had  ! 
Where  in  the  world  have  you  stowed  them  to  V  pretendin'  to  look 
down  for  them.' 

11 '  Kt-pt  them  to  kick  you  with,'  she  said  '  if  you  are  sassy.' 

"Thinks  I  to  myself:  what  next,  as  the  woman  said  to  the  man 
who  kissed  her  in  the  tunnel.  You  are  com  in  v  out,  Liddy. 

"  '  Kick,'  said  I,  '  oh,  you  wouldn't  try  that,  I  am  sure,  let  me  do 
what  1  would.' 

'"  Why  not,'  said  she. 

"  '  Why,'  sais  I,  'if  you  did  you  would  have  \o  kick  so  high,  you 
would  expose  one  of  the  larger  limbs.' 

"'  Mr.  Slick,'  said  she,  '  I  trust  you  will  not  ^o  far  forget  what  is 
due  to  a  lady,  as  to  talk  of  showing  her  larger  limbs,  it's  not 
decent.' 

"'  Well,  I  know  it  ain't  decent,'  said  I,  'but  »'ou  said  you  would 
do  it,  and  I  just  remonstrated  a  little,  that's  all  ' 

"  '  You  was  saying  about  London  and  Paris,'  ^aid  she,  '  being  no 
place  for  educating  young  ladies  in.' 

"  '  Yes,'  sais  I,  'that  painful  story  of  my  twr*  poor  dear  wives, 
(which  is  'all  in  my  eye,'  as  plain  as  it  was  th^n)  illustrates  my 
theory  of  education  in  those  two  capitals.  In  Lon-lon,  females  who 
are^a  great  deal  in  society  in  the  season,  like  a  »nan  who  drinks, 
can't  stop,  they  are  at  it  all  the  time,  and  like  him  sometimes  for- 
get the  way  home  again.  In  Paris,  galls  are  kc.pt  so  much  at 
home  before  marriage,  when  they  once  get  out,  they  don't  want  to 
enter  the  cage  again.  They  are  the  two  extreme*.  If  ever  J 
marry,  I'll  tell  you  how  1  will  lay  down  the  law.  Pl*«sure  shall 
be  the  recreation  and  not  the  business  of  life  with  her.  Home  the 
rule — parties  the  exception.  Duty  first,  amusement  seo>ud.  Her 


FEMALK     CCLLEGES.  195 

hrn«l-quarters  shall  always  be  in  her  own  house,  but  the  outposts 
will  never  be  neglected.' 

"'Nothin'  like  an  American  woman  for  an  American  man,  is 
there  V  said  she,  and  she  drew  nearer,  lookin'  up  in  my  face  to  read 
the  answer,  and  didn't  rock  so  hard. 

"  '  It  depends  upon  how  they  are  brought  up,'  said  I,  looking 
wise.  'But  Liddy,'  sais  I,  '  without  joking,  what  an  amazin'  small 
foot  that  is  of  yours.  It  always  was.  and  wunst  when  it  slipt 
through  a  branch  of  the  cherry -tree,  do  you  recollect  my  saying,  well 
I  vow  that  calf  was  suckled  by  two  cows  ?  now  don't  you  Liddy  V 

" '  No,  sir,'  said  she,  '  1  don't,  though  children  may  say  many 
things  that  when  they  grow  up,  they  are  ashamed  to  repeat;  but  1 
recollect  now,  wunst  when  you  and  I  went  through  the  long  grass 
to  the  cherry-tree,  your  mother  said,  '  Liddy,  beware  you  are  not 
bit  by  a  garter  snake,'  and  I  never  knew  her  mean  in1  till  now,'  and 
she  rose  up  and  said,  'Mr.  Slick,  I  must  bid  you  good  morning.' 

"'  Liddy,'  sais  I,  'don't  be  so  pesky  starch,  I'll  be  dod  fetched  if 
I  meant  any  harm,  but  you  beat  me  all  holler.  I  only  spoke  of 
the  calf,  and  you  went  a  streak  higher  and  talked  of  the  garter.' 

"  '  Sam,'  said  she, '  you  was  always  the  most  impedent,  forredest. 
*nd  pertest  boy  that  ever  was,  and  travellin'  hain't  improved  you 
one  mite  or  morsel.' 

"'I  am  sorry  I  have  offended  you,  Lidily,'  sais  I,  'but  really 
now  how  do  you  manage  to  teach  all  them  things  with  hard  names, 
for  we  never  even  heard  of  them  at  Slickville.  Have  you  any 
masters  ?' 

"  ;  Masters  !' said  she, 'the  first  one  that  entered  this  college, 
would  ruin  it  forever.  What,  a  man  in  this  college  !  where  the 
juvenile  pupils  belong  to  the  first  families  ? — I  guess  not.  1  hire  a 
young  lady  to  teach  rudiments.' 

"  '  So  I  should  think,'  sais  I,  'from  the  specimen  I  saw  at  your 
door ;  she  was  rude  enough  in  all  conscience.' 

"'Pooh!'  said  she;  'well,  I  have  a  Swiss  lady  that  teaches 
French,  German,  Spanish,  and  Italian,  and  an  English  one  that 
instructs  in  music  and  drawing,  and  I  teach  history,  geography, 
botany,  and  the  sciences,  and  so  on.' 

" '  JIow  on  earth  did  you  learn  them  all  ?'  said  I,  '  for  it  puzzles 
rne.' 

'• '  Between  you  and  me,  Sam,'  said  she,  '  for  you  know  my 
broughtens  up,  and  it's  no  use  to  pretend — primary  books  does  it 
all ;  there  is  question  and  answer.  I  read  the  question,  and  they 
learn  the  answer.  .lf's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  teach  now- 
a-days.' 

"  '  But  suppose  vwci  get  beyond  the  rudiments  ?' 

"  '  Oh.  they  never  remain  long  enough  to  do  that.  They  are 
brought  out  before  then.  Tht-y  go  •  to.  Saratoga  first  in  summer 


196  FEMALE     COLLEGES, 

and  then  to  Washington  in  winter,  and  are  married  r  ght  off  after 
that.  The  domestic,  seclusive,  and  exclusive  system,  is  found  most 
conducive  to  a  high  state  of  refinement  and  delicacy.  I  am  dojna 
well,  Sam,'  said  she.  drawing  nearer,  and  looking  confidential  in 
my  face.  '  I  own  all  this  college,  and  all  the  lands  about,  and  have 
laid  up  forty  thousand  dollars  besides  ;'  and  she  nodded  her  head 
at  me,  and  looked  earnest,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  that  is  a  &et,  ain' 
it  grand  V 

"  '  The  devil  you  have !'  said  I,  as  if  I  had  takeift  the  bait.  * ! 
had  a  proposal  to  make.' 

"  '  Oh,'  said  she.  and  she  colored  up  all  orer,  and  got  up  and 
said,  '  Sam,  won't  \  ou  have  a  glass  of  wine,  dear  ?'  She  intended 
it  to  give  me  courage  to  speak  out,  and  she  went  to  a  closet  and 
nrought  out  a  tray  with  a  decanter  and  two  or  three  glasses  on  it, 
and  some  frosted  plumb-cake.  '  Try  that  cake,  dear,'  she  said,  '  I 
made  it  myself,  and  your  dear  old  mother  taught  me  how  to  do 
it ;' and  then  she  laid  back  her  head,  and  larfed  like  anything. 
'  Sam,'  said  she, '  what  a  memory  you  have  ;  I  had  forgot  all  about 
the  cherry-tree;  I  don't  recollect  a  word  of  it.' 

"  '  And  the  calf,'  said  I. 

"'Get  along.' said  she, — 'do  get  out !' and  she  took  up  some 
crumbs  of  the  cake,  and  made  'em  into  a  ball  as  big  as  a  cherry, 
and  fired  it  at  me,  and  struck  me  in  the  eye  with  it,  and  nearly 
put  it  out.  She  jumped  up  in  a  minit :  'Did  she  hurt  her  own 
poor  cossy's  eye?' she  said,  'and  put  it  eon  arnost  out,' and  she 
kissed  it.  '  It  didn't  hurt  his  little  peeper  much,  did  it  ?' 

"  Hullo,  sais  I  to  myself,  she's  coming  it  too  ;?eeowerful  strong 
altogether.  The  sooner  1  dig  out  the  better  for  my  wholesomes. 
However,  let  her  went — she  is  wrathy.  '  I  came  to  propose  to 
you ' 

"'Dear  me,' said  she,  '  I  feel  dreadful;  I  warn't  prepared,  for 
this ;  it's  very  unexpected.  What  is  it,  Sam  ?  I  am  all  over  of 
a  t\\  iteration.' 

"  '  I  know  you  will  refuse  me,'  sais  I,  '  when  I  look  round  and 
see  how  comfortable  and  how  happy  you  are,  even  if  you  ain' 
engaged.' 

"  '  Sam,  I  told  you  I  weren't  engaged,'  she  said  ;  '  that  story  o 
General  Smith  is  all  a  fabrication  ;  therefore  don't  mention  tha 
again.' 

"  '  I  feel,'  said  I,  '  it's  no  use.  I  kno'w  what  you  will  sav — you 
can't  quit.' 

'  You  have  a  strange  way,'  said  she,  rather  tart ;  '  for  you  ask 
questions,  and  then  answer  them  yourself.     What  do  you  mean'?' 
!'  Well,'  sais  I,  Til  tell  you,  Liddy.' 

'  Do,  dear,'  said  she,  and  she  put  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  as  il 
to  step  her  from  hearing  dk'ttoctly.     '  I  came  to  propose  to  you  — ' 


FEMALE    COLLEGES.  197 

" '  Oh,  Sam,'  said  she,  '  to  think  of  that !' 

"  '  To  take  a  seat  in  my  buggy,'  sais  I,  '  and  come  und  spend  a 
.  month  with  sister  Sally  and  me  at  the  old  location.' 

"  Poor  thing,  I  pitied  her ;  she  had  one  knee  over  the  other, 
and,  as  I  said,  one  hand  over  her  eyes,  and  there  she  sot,  and  the 
way  the  upper  foot  went  bobbin'  up  and  down  was  like  the  palsy, 
only  a  little  quicker.  She  never  said  another  word,  nor  sighed, 
nor  groaned,  nor  anything,  only  her  head  hung  lower.  Well,  I 
felt  streaked,  Doctor,  I  tell  you.  I  felt  like  a  man  who  had  stabbed 
another,  and  knew  he  ought  to  be  hanged  for  it ;  and  I  looked  at 
her  as  such  a  critter  would,  if  he  had  to  look  on  and  see  his  enemy 
bleed  to  death.  I  knew  1  had  done  wrong — I  had  acted  spider-like 
to  her — got  her  into  the  web — tied  her  hand  and  foot,  and  tan- 
talized her.  1  am  given  to  brag,  I  know,  Doctor,  when  1  am  in 
the  saddle,  and  up  in  the  stirups,  and  leavin'  all  others  behind  ; 
but  when  a  beast  is  choked,  and  down  in  the  dirt,  no  man  ever 
heard  me  brag  I  had  rode  the  critter  to  death. 

"  No,  I  did  wrong ;  she  was  a  woman,  and  I  was  a  man,  and  if 
she  did  act  a  part,  \\  hy  1  ought  to  have  known  the  game  she  had 
to  play,  and  made  allowances  for  it.  1  dropt  the  trump-card  under 
the  table  that  time,  and,  though  1  got  the  odd  trick,  she  had  the 
honors.  It  warn't  manly  in  me.  that's  a  fact ;  but,  confound  her, 
why  the  plague  did  she  call  me  'Mr.'  and  act  formal,  and  give  me 
the  bag  to  hold,  when  she  knew  me  of  old,  and  minded  the  cherry 
tree,  and  all  that?  Still,  she  was  a  woman,  and  a  defenceless  one, 
too.  and  I  didn't  do  the  pretty.  But  if  she  was  a  woman,  Doctor, 
she  had  more  clear  grit  than  most  men  have.  After  a  while,  she 
took  her  hand  off'  her  eyes  and  rubbed  them,  and  she  opened  hei 
mouth  and  yawned  so  you  could  see  down  to  her  garters  amost. 

"  '  Dtar  me  !'  said  she.  trying  to  smile ;  but,  oh  me  !  how  she 
looked  !  Her  eyes  had  no  more  expression  than  a  China  aster, 
and  her  face  was  so  deadly  pale  it  made  the  rouge  she  had  put  on 
look  like  the  hectic  of  a  d\  ing  consumption.  Her  ugly  was  out 
in  full  bloom,  1  tell  you.  'Dear  cousin  Sam,'  said  she,  '1  am  so. 
fatigued  with  my  labors  as  presidentess  of  this  institution,  that  I 
can  hardly  keep  my  peepers  open.  J  think,  if  I  recollect — for  I 
arn  ashamed  to  say  1  was  a  noddin' — that  you  proposed'  (that  word 
lit  her  eyes' up)  'that- I  should  go  with  you  to  visit  dear  Sally 
Oh,  Sam  !'  said  she,  (how  she  bit  in  her  temper  that  hitch,  didn't 
she  ?)  'you  see,  and  yon  saw  it  at  first,  1  can  t  leave  on  so  short  a 
notice ;  but  if  my  sweet  Sally  would  come  and  visit  me,  how  de- 
lighted 1  should  be  !  Sam,  I  must  join  my  class  now.  How 
happy  it  has  made  me  to  see  you  again  after  so  many  years ' 
Kiss  me,  dear  ;  good-bye— God  bless  you  !'  and  she  yawned  again 
till  she  nearly  dislocated  her  jaw.  'Go  on  and  write  books,  Sam, 
for  no  man  is  better  skilled  in  human  uaiur,  and  xparrs  if  ie*xy  than 


198  OIPSETING. 

yourself.'     What  a  reproachful  look  she  gave  me  then  !     'Good 
bye,  dear !' 

"  Well,  when  I  closed  the  door,  and  was  opening  of  the  outer 
one,  I  heard  a  crash.  I  paused  a  moment,  for  I  knew  what  it  was. 
She  had  fainted,  and  fell  into  a  conniption  fit. 

"  'Sam,'  sais  I  to  myself,  '  shall  I  go  back  V 

"  '  No,'  sais  I,  '  if  you  return  there  will  be  a  scene  ;  and  if  you 
don't,  if  she  can't  account  naterally  for  it,  the  devil  can't,  that's 
all.' 

"  Doctor,  I  felt  guilty.  I  tell  you.  I  had  taken  a  great  many 
rises  out  of  folks  in  my  time,  but  that's  the  only  one  I  repent  of. 
Tell  you  what,  Doctor,  folks  may  talk  about  their  southern  gentle- 
men, their  New  York  prince  merchants,  and  so  on,  but  the  clear 
grit,  bottom  and  game,  is  New  England  (Yankee-doodle-dum). 
Male  or  female,  young  or  old,  I'll  back  'em  agin  a.l  creation." 

Squire,  show  this  chapter  to  Lord  Tandembery,  if  you  know 
him  ;  and  if  you  don't,  Uncle  Tom  Lavender  will  give  you  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  him  ;  and  then  ask  him  if  ever  he  has  suffered 
half  so  much  as  Sam  Slick  has  in  the  cause  of  edication. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

GIPSEYING. 

WE  tried  the  deck  again,  but  the  fog  was  too  disagreeable  to 
remain  there,  for  the  water  fell  from  the  ropes  in  such  large  drops, 
and  the  planks  w^re  so  wet  and  slippery,  we  soon  adjourned. again 
to  the  cabin. 

"  I  have  to  tha'ik  you,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  for  a  most  charming 
day  at  the  Beaver  Dam.  That  was  indeed  a  day  in  the  woods,  and 
I  believe  every  one  there  knew  how  to  enjoy  it.  How  different  it 
is  from  people  in  a  town  here,  who  go  out  to  the  country  for  a  pic- 
nic. A  citizen  thinks  the  pleasure  of  gipseying,  as  they  call  it  in 
England,  consists  solely  in  the  abundance  and  variety  of  the  viands, 
the  quality  and  quantity  of  the  wines,  and  as  near  an  approach  to 
a  city  dinner,  as  it  is  possible  to  have,  where  there  are  neither 
tables  nor  chairs,  side-boards,  removes.  He  selects  his  place  for 
the  encampment  in  the  first  opening  adjoining  the  clearing,  as  it 
wmmands  a  noble  view  of  the  harbor,  and  there  is  grass  enough 
to  recline  upon.  The  woods  are  gloomy,  the  footing  is  slippery, 
and  there  is  nothing  t»  be  seen  in  a  forest  but  trees,  wiudfa! Is  .which 
we  difficult  to  climb,  and  boggy  g  ound  that  wets  your  &et,  and 


GIPSETINO.  199 

makes  you  feel  uncomfortable.  The  limbs  arc  eternally  knocking 
your  hat  off.  and  the  spruce  gum  ruins  your  clothes,  while  ladies, 
like  sheep,  are  forever  leaving  fragments  of  their  dress  on  every 
bush.  He  chooses  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  then  fore,  the  background 
is  a  glorious  wood,  and  the  foreground  is  diversified  by  the  ship- 
ping. The  o-heave-o  of  the  sailors,  as  it  rises  and  falls  in  the  dis- 
tance, is  music  to  his  ears,  and  suggestive  of  agreeable  reflections, 
or  profitable  conversation  peculiarly  appropriate  to  the  place  and 
the  occasion.  The  price  of  fish  in  the  West  Indies,  or  of  deals  in 
Liverpool,  or  the  probable  ri.*>e  of  flour  in  the  market,  amuse  the 
vacant  mind  of  himself  and  his  partner,  not  his  wife,  for  she  is  only 
his  skepiiiy  partner,  but  the  vigilant  partner  of  the  firm,  one  of 
those  who  are  embraced  in  the  comprehensive  term  the  'Co.'  He 
is  the  depository  of  his  secrets,  the  other  of  his  complaints. 

"  His  wife  is  equally  happy,  she  enjoys  it  uncommonly,  for  she 
knows  it  will  spite  those  horrid  Aludges.  She  is  determined  not  to 
invite  them,  for  they  make  too  much  noise,  it  gives  her  the  head- 
ache, and  their  flirting  is  too  bad.  Mrs.  White  called  them  garri- 
son hacks.  And  besides  (tor  women  always  put  the  real  reason 
last — they  live  in  a  postscript)  they  don't  deserve  it,  for  they  left 
her  girls  out  when  they  had  the  lobster  spearing  party  by  torch- 
light, with  the  officers  of  the  flag-ship,  though  that  was  no  loss,  for 
by  all  accounts  it  was  a  very  romping  party,  knocking  off  the  men's 
hats,  and  then  exchanging  their  bonnets  for  them.  And  how  any 
mother  could  allow  her  daughter  to  be  held  round  the  waist  by 
the  flag-lieutenant,  while  she  leaned  over  the  boat  to  spear  the  fish, 
is  a  mystery  to  her.  The  polka  is  bad  enough,  but  to  her  mind, 
that  is  not  decent,  and  then  she  has  something  to  whisper  about  it, 
that,  she  says  is  too  bad,  (this  is  a  secret  though,  and  she  must 
whisper  it,  for  walls  have  ears,  and  who  knows  but  trees  have,  and 
besides,  the  g»<><l  things  are  never  repeated,  but  the  too  bad  always 
is),  and  Mrs.  Black  lifts  up  both  her  hands,  and  the  whites  of  both 
eyes  in  perf-ct  horror. 

" '  Now  did  \  ou  ever  !     Oh,  is  that  true  ?     Why,  you  dont !' 

"  '  Lucy  Green  saw  him  with  her  own  eyes,'  and  she  opens  her 
own  as  big  as  saucers. 

"  '  And  what  did  Miss  Mudge  say  V 

"  '  Well,  upon  my  word,'  said  she,  'I  wonder  what  you  will  do 
next,'  and  laughed  so  they  nearly  fell  overboard.' 

"  '  Oh,  what  carryings  on.  ain't  it,  dear.  But  I  wonder  where 
Sarah  Matilda  is?  I  don't  see  her  and  Captain  Je  la  Cour.  I  am 
afraid  fhe  will  get  lost  in  the  woods,  and  that  would  make  people 
talk  as  they  d,d  al.out  Miss  Mudge  and  Doctor  Vincent,  who 
couldn't  find  their  way  out  once  till  nine  o'clock  at  night.' 

"They'll  soon  get  back,  dear,' sais  the  other,  'let  them  be,  it 
looks  like  watching  them,  and  you  know,'  laying  an  emphasis  on 


00  GIPS  EYING. 


com* 
no  straiht 


vou  '  you  and  I  wtie  young  once  ourselves,  and  so  they 

back  when  they  want  to,  for  though   the  woods  have 

paths  in  them,  they  have  short  cuts  enough  for  them  that's  in  a 

hurry.     Cupid  has  no  watch,  dear  ;  his  fob  is  for  a  purse,"  and  she 

smiles  wicked  on  the  mother  of  the  heiress. 

'•  Well,  then,  who  can  say  this  is  not  a  pleasant  day  to  both 
parties.  The  old  gentlemen  have  their  nice  snug  business  chat,  and 
the  old  ladies  have  their  nice  snug  gossip  chat,  and  the  third  estate, 
(as  the  head  of  the  firm  calls  it,  who  \\  as  "lately  elected  member  for 
Grumble  Town,  and  begins  to  talk  parliamentary,)  the  third  estate, 
the  young  folks,  the  people  of  progression,  who  are  not  behind  but 
rather  ahead  of  the  age  they  live  in,  don't  they  enjoy  themselves? 
It  is  very  hard  if  youth,  beauty,  health,  good  spirits,  and  a  desire 
to  please,  (because  if  people  havn't  that  they  had  better  stay  to 
home)  can't  or  won't  make  people  happy.  I  don't  mean  for  to  go 
for  to  say,  that  will  ensure  it,  because  nothin'  is  certain,  and  I  have 
known  many  a  ga!l  that  resembled  a  bottle  of  beautiful  wine.  You 
will  find  one  sometimes  as  enticin'  to  appearance  as  ever  was,  but 
shake  it  up  and  there  is  grounds  there  for  all  that,  settled,  but  still 
there,  and  enough  too  to  spile  all,  so  you  can't  put  it  to  your  lips 
any  how  you  can  fix  it.  What  a  pity  it  is  sweet  things  turn  sour, 
ain't  it.  •* 

"But  in  a  general  way  these  things  will  make  f>lks  happy. 
There  are  some  sword  knots  there,  and  thev  do  look  very  like 
woodmen,  that's  a  fact.  If  you  never  saw  a  forrester,  you  would 
swear  to  them  as  perfect.  A  wide-awake  hat,  with  a  little  short 
pipe  stuck  in  it,  a  pair  of  whiskers  that  will  be  grand  when  they 
are  a  few  years  older  —  a  coarse  check,  or  red  flannel  shirt,  a  loose 
neckhandkerchief,  tied  with  a  sailor's  knot  —  a  cut-away  jacket,  with 
lots  of  pockets  —  a  belt,  but  little  or  no  waistcoat  —  homespun 
trowsers  and  thick  buskins  —  a  rough  glove  and  a  delicate  white 
hand,  the  real,  easy,  and  natural  gait  of  the  woodman,  (only  it's 
apt  to  be  a  little,  just  a  little  too  stiff,  on  account  of  the  ramrod 
t,hey  have  to  keep  in  their  throats  while  on  parade,)  when  com- 
bined, .actilly  beat  natur,  for  they  are  too  nateral.  Oh,  these 
amateur  woodsmen  enact  their  parts  so  well,  you  think  you  almost 
see  the  identical  thing  itself.  And  then  they  have  had  the  ad  van- 
tnge  of.  Woolitch  or  Sandhurst,  or  Chobham,  and  are  dabs  at  a 
bivouac,  grand  hands  with  an  axe—  cut  a  hop-pole  down  in  half  a- 
day  amost.  and  in  the  other  half  stick  it  into  the  ground.  I  don't 
make  no  doubt  in  three  or  four  days  they  could  build  a  wigwam 
to  sleep  in,  and  one  night  out  of  four  under  cover  is  a  great  deal 
for  an  amateur  hunter,  though  it  ain't  the  sma  lest  part  of  a  cir- 
cumstance to  the  Crimea.  As  it  is,  if  a  stick  ain't  too  big  for  a 
lire,  say  not  larger  than  your  finger,  they  can  break  it  over  their 
knee,  sooner  than  you  could  cut  it  with  .a  hatchet  for  your  life,  »nd 


G  I  P  8  E  T  I  N  W  .  201 

see  how  soon  it's  in  a  b!aze.  Take  them  altogether  they  are  a  kil 
ling  party  of  coons  them,  never  miss  a  moose  if  they  shoot  out  of 
an  Indian's  gun,  and  use  a  silver  bullet. 

"  Well,  then,  the  young  ladies  are  equipped  so  nicely — th^y  have 
uglies  to  their  bonnets,  the  only  thing  ugly  about  them,  for  at  a 
distance  they  look  like  huge  green  spectacles.  They  are  very 
useful  in  the  forest,  for  there  is  a  great  glare  of  the  sun  generally 
under  trees,  or  else  they  have  green  bonnets,  that  look  like  eagle's 
skins — thin  dresses,  strong  ones  are  too  heavy,  and  they  don't  dis- 
play the  beauty  of  nature  enough,  they  are  so  high,  and  the  wholo 
object  of  the  party  is  to  admire  that.  Their  walking  shoes  are 
light  and  thin,  they  don't  fatigue  you  like  coarse  ones,  and 
India-rubbers  are  hideous,  they  make  your  feet  as  if  they  had  the 
gout,  and  they  have  sucn  pretty,  dear  little  aprons,  how  rural  it 
looks  altogether — they  act  a  day  in  the  woods  to  admiration. 
Three  of  the  officers  have  nicknames,  a  very  nice  thing  to  induce 
good  fellowship,  especially  as  it  has  no  tendency  whatever  to  pro- 
mote quarrels.  There  io  Lander,  of  the  rifles,  ha  is  so  short,  they 
call  him  Pistol,  he  has  a  year  to  grow  yet.  and  may  become  a  great 
gun  some  of  these  days.  Kussel  takes  a  joke  go««d  humoredly  and 
therefore  is  so  fortunate  as  to  get  more  than  his  share  of  them,  ac- 
cordingly he  goes  by  the  name  of  Target,  as  every  ore  takes  a  sh'  -t  at 
him.  Duke  is  so  bad  a  shot,  he  has  twice  nearly  pinked  the 
marksman,  so  he  is  called  Trigger.  He  always  lays  the  blame  of 
his  want  of  skill  on  that  unfortunate  appendage  of  the  gun,  as  it  is 
either  too  hard  or  too  quick  on  the  finger.  Then  there  is  young 
Bulger,  and  as  everybody  pronounces  it  as  if  it  had  two  'gV  in  it, 
he  corrects  them  and  says  'g'  soft,  my  dear  fellow,  if  you  please  ; 
so  he  goes  by  the  name  of  'G'  soft.  Oh,  the  conversation  of  the 
third  estate  is  so  pretty,  I  could  listen  to  it  for  ever. 

"  '  Aunt,'  sais  Miss  Diantha,  '  do  you  know  what  gyp — gypsy — 
gypsy  mum — gypsy  muming  is?  Did  you  ever  hear  how  I  stutter 
to-day  ?  I  can't  get  a  word  out  hardly.  Aint  it  provoking?  " 

"  Well,  stammering  is  provoking;  but  a  pretty  little  accidental 
impediment  of  speech  like  that,  accompanied  with  a  little  graceful 
bob  of  the  head,  is  very  taking,  ain't  it  ?  ' 

"'Gypsuming,'  sais  the  wise  matron,  'is  the  plaster  of  Paris 
trade,  dear.  They  carry  it  on  at  Windsor,  your  father  says.' 

"  Pistol  gives  Target  a  wink,  for  they  are  honoring  the  party  by 
their  company,  though  the  mother  of  one  keeps  a  lodging  house  at 
Bath,  and  the  father  of  the  other  makes  real  genuine  East  India 
curry  in  London.  They  look  down  on  the  whole  of  the  towns- 
people. It  is  natural ;  pot  always  calls  kettle  an  ugly  name. 

"  '  No,  Ma,'  sais  Di — all  the  girls  address  her  as  Di ;  ain't. it  a 
pretty  abbreviation  for  a  die-away  young  lady  ?  But  she  is  not  a 
die-away  lass ;  she  is  more  of  a  Di  Vei  non.  '•  No,  Ma,'  suis  Di, 
<** 


202  G  IP  »  EYING. 

«  gjpsey—ing,  what  a  hard  word  it  is !     Mr.  Russel   sa}s  it's  what 
they  call  those  parties  in  England.     It  is  so  like  the  gipsy  life.' 
"  '  'I  here  is  one  point,'  sais  Pistol,  '  in  which  they  differ.' 
«'  What's  that?'  sais  Di. 
"  '  Do  you  give  it  up  1 ' 
" '  Yes.' 

"'There  the  gipsy  girls  steal  poultry;  and  here  they  steal 
nearts,'  and  he  puts  "his  left  hand  by  mistake  on  his  breast,  not 
knowing  that  the  pulsation  there  indicates  his  lungs,  and  not  his 
gizzard,  is  affected— that  he  is  broken-iciuded,  and  not  broken- 
heartcd. 

'"Very  good,'  every  one  sais;  but  still  every  <»ne  hasn't  heard 
it,  so  it  has  to  be  repeated  ;  and  what  is  worse,  as  the  habits  of  the 
gipsies  are  not  known  to  all,  the  point  has  to  be  exp'ained.^ 

"Target  says,  '  he  will  send  it  to  the  paper,  and  put  Trigger's 
name  to  it,'  and  Pistol  says,  'that  is  capital,  for  if  he  calls  you  out, 
he  can't  hit  you,'  and  there  is  a  joyous  laugh.  Oh  dear,  but  a  day 
in  the  woods  is  a  pleasant  thing.  For  my  own  part,  I  must  say  I 
quite  agree  with  the  hosier,  who,  when  he  first  went  to  New  Or- 
leens,  and  saw  such  a  swad  of  people  there  said,  he  '  didn't  under- 
stand how  on  earth  it  was  that  folks  liked  to  live  in  a  heap  that 
way,  altogether,  where  there  was  no  corn  to  plant,  and  no  bears  to 
kill.' 

'•'My,  oh  my  !'  says  Miss  Letitia,  or  Let-kiss-you,  as  Pistol  used 
to  call  her.  People  ought  to  be  careful  what  names  they  give  their 
children,  so  as  folks  can't  fasten  nicknames  on  'em.  Before  others, 
the  girls  called  her  Letty,  and  that's  well  enough  ;  but  sometimes 
they  would  call  her  Let,  which  is  the  devil.  If  a  man  can't  give  a 
pretty  fortune  to  his  child,  he  can  give  it  a  pretty  name,  at  any 
rate. 

"There  was  a  very  large  family  of  Cards  wunst  to  Slickville. 
They  were  mostly  in  the  stagecoach  and  livery-stable  line,  and 
careless,  reckless  sort  of  people.  So  one  day,  Squire  Zenas  Card 
had  a  christenin'  at  his  house. 

"Says  the  Minister,  '  what  shall  I  call  him  V 
"'Pontius  Pilate,'  said  he. 

"  '  I  can't,'  said  Minister,  '  and  1  wont.  No  soul  ever  heerd  of 
such  a  name  for  a  Christian  since  baptism  came  in  fashion.' 

"  'I  am  sorry  for  that,'  said  the  Squire,  ;  for  it's  a  mighty  pretty 
name.  I  heard  it  once  in  church,  and  1  thought  if  ever  1  had  a  sou 
1'de  call  him  after  him  ;  but  if  I  can't  have  that — and  it's  a  dread 
ful  pity — call  him  trump  ;'  and  he  was  christened  Trump  Card. 

"I0h  my  !'  sais  Miss  Letitia,  lispin',  'Captain  de  la  Cour  ha=> 
smashed  my  bonnet,  see  he  is  setting  upon  it.  Did  you  ever?' 

"'Never,'  said  Di,  'he  has  converted  your  cottage  bonnet  into  a 
country  seat,  1  do  declare  !' 


G  I  P  S  E  Y  I  N  O  .  203 

"Everybody  exclaimed,  'that  is  excellent,'  and  Russel  said, 
'cap!  al.  by  Jove.' 

"  'That  kind  ot  "hing,"  said  de  la  Cour,  '  is  more  honored  in  the 
breach,  than  the  obiter etmci'J  and  winked  to  Target. 

"  Miss  Di  is  an  inveterate  punster,  so  she  returns  to  the  charge. 

"  '  Letty,  what  fish  is  that,  the  name  of  which  would  express  all 
you  said  about  your  bonnet? — do  you  give  it  up  ?  A  bonnet-o  !' 
(%Bone.to). 

"'  Well.  I  cantf'itftom  that,'  sais  De  la  Cour. 

"  '  I  don't  wonder  at  that,'  says  the  invincible  Di ;  'It  is  beyond 
your  depth,  for  it  is  an  o  it  of  soundings  fish.' 

"  Poor  De  la  Cour,  you  had  better  let  her  alone,  she  is  too  many 
guns  for  you.  Scratch  your  head,  for  your  curls  and  your  name  are 
all  that  you  have  to  be  proud  of.  Let  her  alone,  she  is  wicked,  and 
she  is  meditating  a  name  for  you  and  Pistol,  that  will  stick  to  you 
as  l»ng  as  you  live;  she  has  it  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue:  'The 
babes  in  the  wood.' 

"  Now  for  the  baskets — now  for  the  spread.  The  old  gentlemen 
break  up  their  Lloyds'  meeting — the  old  ladies  break  up  their 
scandal  club — the  young  ladies  and  their  beaux  are  busy  in  arrange- 
ments, and  though  the  corkscrews  are  nowhere  to  be  found,  Pistol 
has  his  in  one  of  the  many  pockets  of  his  woodman's  coat,  he  never 
goes  without  it,  (like  one  of  his  mother's  waiters),  which  he  calls 
his  'young  man's  best  companion,'  and  which  another,  who  was  a 
year  in  an  attorney's  office,  while  waiting  for  his  commission,  calls 
•the  crosvn  circuit  assistant,'  and  a  third,  who  has  just  arrived  in  a 
eteamer  designates  as  'the  screw  propdlerj  it  was  a  sensible  provi- 
sion, and  Miss  Di  said  'a  corkscrew  and  &  pocket  pistol  were  better 
suited  to  him  than  a  rifle,'  and  every  one  said  it  was  a  capital  joke 
that — for  everybody  likes  a  shot  that  don't  hit  themselves. 

" '  How  tough  the  goose  is  !'  sais  G  soft.     '  I  can't  carve  it.' 

" '  Ah  !'  sais  Di,  '  when  Greek  meets  Greek,  then  comes  the  tug 
of  war.' 

"  Eating  and  talking  lasts  a  good  while,  but  they  don't  last  for 
ever.  The  ladies  leave  the  gentlemen  to  commence  their  smoking, 
and  finish  their  drinking,  and  presently  there  is  a  loud  laugh  ;  it's 
more  than  a  laugh,  it's  a  roar ;  and  the  ladies  turn  round  and  won 
d«r. 

4i  Letty  sais,  '  when  the  wine  is  in,  the  wit  is  out.' 

"  True,'  sais  Di,  '  the  wine  is  there,  but  when  you  left  them,  tho 
wit  went  out.' 

" '  Rather  severe,'  said  Letty. 

" '  Not  at  all,'  sais  Di,  '  for  I  was  with  you.' 

"  It  is  the  last  shot  of  poor  Di.  She  won't  take  the  trouble  to 
talk  well  for  ladies,  and  those  horrid  Mudges  have  a  party  on  pur- 
pose  to  take  away  all  the  pleasant  men.  She  never  passed  su 


204  GIP8EYING. 

stupid  a  day.  She  hates  picnics,  and  will  never  go  to  one  again. 
De  la  Cour  is  a  fool,  and  is  as  full  of  airs  as  a  night  hawk  is  of 
feathers.  Pistol  is  a  bore;  Target  is  both  poor  and  stingy  ;  Trig- 
ger thinks  more  of  himself  than  anybody  else;  and  as  for  G  soft 
he  is  a  goose.  She  will  never  speak  to  Pippeil  again  for  not  com- 
ing. They  are  a  poor  set  of  devils  in  the  garrison  ;  she  is  glad 
they  are  to  hav.^  a  new  regiment. 

"  Letty  hasn't  enjoyed  herself,  either,  she  has  been  devoured  by 
blank  flies  and  rnusquitoes,  and  has  got  her  feet  wot.  and  is  so  tired 
she  can't  go  to  the  ball.  The  sleeping  partner  of  the  head  of  the 
firm  is  out  of  sorts,  too.  Her  crony-goseip  gave  her  a  sly  poke 
early  in  the  day,  to  show  her  she  recollected  when  she  was  young 
(not  that  she  is  so  old  now,  either,  fi>r  she  knows  the  grave  gentle- 
man who  visits  at  her  house  is  said  to  like  the  mother  better  than 
the  daughter)  but  before  she  was  married,  and  friends  who  have 
such  wonderful  memories  are  not  very  pleasant  companions,  though 
it  don't  do  to  have  them  for  enemies.  Put  then,  poor  thing,  and 
she  consoles  herself  with  the  idea  the  poor  thing  has  daughters  her- 
self, and  they  are  as  ugly  as  sin,  and  not  half  so  agreeable.  But 
it  isn't  that  altogether.  Sarah  Matilda  should  not  have  gone  wan- 
dering out  of  hearing  with  the  Captain,  and  she  must  give  her  a 
piece  of  her  m'.nd  about  it,  for  there  is  a  good  deal  of 'truth  in  the 
old  saying,  '  if  the  girls  won't  run  after  the  men,  the  men  will  rim 
$fter  them  ;'  so  she  calls  out  loudly,  '  Sarah  Matilda.  Love,  come 
here,  dear,'  and  Sarah  Matilda  knows  when  the  honey  is  produced, 
physic  is  to  be  taken  ;  but  she  knows  she  is  under  observation,  and 
so  she  flies  to  her  dear  mamma,  with  the  feet  and  face  of  an  angel, 
and  they  gradually  vvithdiaw. 

"  '  Dear  ma,  how  tired  you  look.' 

411  *  I  am  not  t'.red.  dear.' 

"'Well,  you  don't  look  well;  is  anything  the  matter  v/ith 
you?' 

l"I  didn't  say  I  wasn't  well,  and  it's  very  rude  to  remark  on 
one's  looks  that  way.' 

" '  Something  seems  to  have  put  you  out  of  sorts,  ma.  I  will  rim 
and  call  pa.  Dear  me,  1  feel  frightened.  Shall  I  ask  Mrs.  Baw- 
don  for  her  salts  1' 

" '  You  know  very  well  what's  the  matter  :  it's  Captain   De  la 

/""*  }  ^ 

Cour. 

"' Well,  now,  how  strange,' said  Sarah  Matilda.  'I  told  him 
he  had  better  go  and  walk  with  you  ;  1  wanted  him  to  do  it;  I  told 
him  you  liked  attention.  Yes.  I  knew  you  would  be  angry,  but  it 
isn't  my  fiult.  It  ain't  indeed! 

"'Well,  1  am  astonished,'  replies  th?  horrified  mother.  'I 
never  in  all  my  life.  So  you  told  him  1  liked  attention.  I,  your 
mother,  your  father's  wife,  with  my  position  in  sotiefer,  and  pray 
what  answer  did  he  make  to  this  strange  conduct?' 


G  I  P  6  K  Y  I  N  '*  .  205 

"  '  He  said  ;  no  wonder,  you  were  the  handsomest  woman  in 
town,  and  so  agreeable  ;  the  only  one  fit  to  talk  to.' 

••  •  And  you  have  the  face  to  admit  you  listened  to  such  stuff.' 

'"1  f-ou'ld  listen  all  day  to  it,  ma,  for  I  knew  it  was  true.  I 
never  saw  you  look  so  lovely,  the  new  bishop  hzis  improved  your 
appearance  amazingly.' 

k"  Who?'  said  tlie  mother,  with  an  hysterical  scream;  '  what  do 
you  mean  V 

" '  The  new  bustler,  ma.' 

" '  Oh,'  said  she,  quite  relieved,  '  oh,  do  you  think  so  V 

" '  But  what  did  you  want  of  me,  ma.' 

•"To  fasten  my  gown,  dear,  there  is  a  hook  come  undone.' 

"  '  Coming,'  she  said,  in  a  loud  voice. 

"  There  was  nobody  calling,  but  somebody  ought  to  have 
called  ;  so  she  fastens  the  hook,  and  flies  back  as  fast  as  she 
came. 

"Sarah  Matilda,  you  were  not  born  yesterday;  first  you  put 
your  mother  on  the  defensive,  and  then  you  stroked  her  down  with 
the  grain,  and  made  her  feel  good  all  over,  while  you  escaped  from 
a  scolding  \ou  know  you  deserved.  A  jealous  mother  makes  an 
artful  daughter.  But  Sarah  Matilda,  one  word  in  your  ear.  Art 
•ain't  cleverness,  and  cunning  ain't  understanding.  Semblance 
only  answers  once ;  the  second  time  the  door  ain't  opened  to  it. 

"Henrietta  is  all  adrift,  too;  she  is  an  otd  maid,  and  Di  nick- 
named her  'the  old  hen.'  She  has  been  shamefully  neglected  t<>- 
day.  The  young  men  have  been  flirting  about  with  those  forward 
young  girls — children — mere  children,  and  have  not  had  the 
civility  to  exchange  a  word  with  her.  The  old  ladies  have  been 
whispering  gossip  all  day,  and  the  old  gentlemen  busy  talking 
about  freights,  the  Fall-catch  of  macarel,  and  hhip-lmilding.  Nor 
could  their  talk  have  been  solely  confined  to  these  subjects,  for  once 
when  she  approached  them,  she  heard  the  head  of  the  firm  say  : 

"'Thtf  "  lovely  lass"  must  be  thrown  down  and  scraped,  for  she 
is  so  foul,  and  her  knees  are  all  gone.' 

"And  so  she  turned  away  in  disgust.  Catch  her  at  a  pic-nic 
again  !  No,  never  !  It  appears  the  world  is  changed  ;  girls  in  her 
day  were  never  allowed  to  romp  that  way,  and  men  used  to  have 
sjme  manners.  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass! 

"  '  Alida.  is  that  you,  dear  ?     You  look  dull.' 

"  'Or^- Henrietta!  I  have  torn  my  beautiful  thread  lace  mantilla 
All  to  rags  ;  it's  ruined  for  ever.  And  do  you  know — oh,  /  don't 
know  how  I  shall  ever  dare  to  face  ma  again  !  I  have  lost  her  beau- 
tiful little  enamelled  watch.  Some  of  these  horrid  branches  have 
pulled  it  off  the  chain.'  And  Alida  cries  and  is  consoled  Iw 
Henrietta,  who  is  a  good-natured  creature  after  all.  She  tells  her 
foi  bei  confo-t  that  in -body  should  ever  think  of  wearing  a  delicate 


206  GIP8EYING. 

and  expensive  lace  mantilla  in  thewcods;  shi  could  not  expect 
anything  else  than  to  have  it  destroyed;  and  as  for  exposing  a 
Beautiful  gold  watch  outside  of  her  dress,  nobody  in  her  senses 
would  have  thought  of  such  a  thing.  Of  course  she  was  greatly 
comforted :  kind  words  and  a  kind  manner  will  console  anv  one. 

"  It  is  time  now  to  re-assemble,  and  the  party  are  gathered  once 
more  ;  and  the  ladies  have  found  their  smiles  again,  and  Alida  has 
found  her  watch ;  and  there  are  to  be  some  toasts  and  some  songs 
before  parting.  All  is  jollity  once  more,  and  the  head  of  the  firm 
and  his  vigilant  partner,  and  the  officers  have  all  a  drop  in  their 
eye,  and  Henrietta  is  addressed  by  the  junior  partner,  \\ho  is  a 
bachelor  of  about  her  own  age,  and  who  assures  her  he  never  saw 
her  look  better ;  and  she  looks  delighted,  and  is  delighted,  and 
thinks  a  pic-nic  not  so  bad  a  thing  after  all. 

"  But  there  is  a  retributive  justice  in  this  world.  Even  pic-nic 
parties  have  their  moral,  and  folly  itself  affoivls  an  example  from 
which  a  wise  saw  may  be  extracted.  Captain  De  Courcy  addresses 
her,  and  after  ail  he  has  the  manners  and  appearance  of  a  gentle- 
man, though  it  is  whispered  he  is  fond  of  practical  jokes,  pulls  'colt 
ensigns'  out  of  bed,  makes  them  go  through  their  sword  exercise 
standing  shirtless  in  their  tubs,  and  so  on.  There  is  one  re- 
deeming thing  in  the  story,  if  it  be  true,  he  never  was  known  to 
do  it  to  a  young  nobleman;  he  is  too  well  bred  for  that.  lie 
talks  to  her  of  society  as  it  was  before  good-breeding  was  reformed 
out  of  the  colonies.  She  is  delighted  ;  but,  oh !  was  it  stupidity, 
or  was  it  insolence,  or  was  it  cruelty  1  he  asked  her  if  she  recollect- 
ed the  Duke  of  Kent.  To  be  sure  it  is  only  fifty-two  years  sinco 
he  was  here;  but  to  have  recollected  him!  How  old  did  he 
suppose  she  was  1  She  bears  it  well  and  meekly.  It  is  not  the 
first  time  she  has  been  painfully  reminded  she  was  not  \  oung.  She 
says  her  grandmother  often  spoke  of  him  as  a  good  officer  and  a 
handsome  man  ;  and  she  laughs  though  her  heart  aches  the  while, 
as  if  it  was  a  good  joke  to  ask  her.  He  backs  out  as  soon  as  he 
can.  Pie  meant  well  though  he  had  expressed  himself  awkwardly  ; 
but  to  back  out  shows  you  are  in  the  wrong  stall,  a  place  you 
have  no  business  in,  and  being  out,  he  thinks  it  as  well  to  jog  ou 
to  another  place. 

"  Ah  Henrietta!  you  were  unkind  to  Alida  about  her  lace 
mantilla  and  her  gold  watch,  and  it  has  come  home  to  you.  You 
ain't  made  of  glass,  and  nothing  else  will  hold  vinegar  long  without 
being  corroded  itself. 

"  Well,  the  toasts  are  drunk,  and  the  men  are  not  far  from  being 
drunk  too,  and  feats  of  agility  are  prcpo-ed,  and  they  jump  up 
and  catch  a  springing  bow,  and  turn  a  somerset  on  it,  or  over  it. 
and  they  are  cheered  and  applauded  when  t)e  Courcy  pauses 
hi  mid-air  for  a  moment,  as  if  uncertain  what  to  do.  "lias  tha 


G  I  P  9  E  V  I  N  O  .  207 

bough  given  way.  or  was  that  the  sound  of  cloth  rent  in  twain. 
Something  has  gone  wrong,  for  he  is  greeted  with  uproarious 
cheers  by  the  men,  and  he  drops  on  his  feet,  and  retires  fioin  the 
company  as  from  the  presence  of  royalty,  by  backing  out  und 
bowing  as  he  goes,  repeatedly  stumbling,  and  once  or  twice  falling 
in  his  retrograde  motion. 

"  Ladies  never  lose  their  tact — they  ask  no  questions  because 
they  see  something  is  arniss,  and  though  it  is  hard  to  subdue 
curiosity,  propriety  sometimes  restrains  it.  They  join  in  the 
general  laugh,  however,  for  it  can  be  nothing  serious  where  his 
friends  make  merry  with  it.  When  he  retires  from  view,  his 
health  is  drank  with  three  times  three.  Di,  who  seemed  to  take 
pleasure  in  annoying  the  spinster,  said  she  had  a  great  mind  not  to 
join  in  that  toast,  for  he  was  a  loose  fellow,  otherwise  he  would 
have  rent  his  heart  and  not  his  garments.  It  is  a  pity  a  clevei 
girl  like  her  will  let  her  tongue  run  that  way,  for  it  leads  them  t< 
say  things  they  ought  not.  Wit  in  a  woman  is  a  dangerous  thing 
like  a  doctor's  lancet,  it  is  apt  to  be  employed  about  matters  that 
offend  our  delicacy,  or  hurt  our  feeling?." 

'"What  the  devil  is  that?'  said  the  head  of  the  firm,  looking  up, 
as  a  few  drops  of  rain  fell.  •  'Wrhy,  here  is  a  thunder  shower 
coming  on  us  as  sure  as  the  world.  Come,  let  us  pack  up  and 
be  off.' 

"  And  the  servants  are  urged  to  be  expeditious,  and  the  sword 
knots  tumble  the  glass  into  the  baskets,  and  the  cold  hams  a  top 
of  them,  and  break  the  decanters  to  make  them  stow  better,  and 
the  head  of  the  firm  swears,  and  the  sleeping  partner  says  she  will 
faint,  she  could  never  abide  thunder;  and  Di  tells  her  if  she  does 
not  want  to  abide  all  night,  she  had  better  move,  and  a  vivid  flash 
of  lightning  gives  notice  to  quit,  and  tears  and  screams  attest  the 
notice  is  received,  and  the  retreat  is  commenced;  but  alas,  the  car- 
riages are  a  mile  and  a  half  off,  and  the  tempest  rages  and  the  rain 
falls  in  torrents,  and  the  thunder  stuns  them,  and  the  lightning 
blinds  them. 

"  '  What's  the  use  of  hurrying,'  says  Di/  '  we  are  now  wet 
through,  and  our  clothes  are  spoiled,  ai.d  1  think  we  might  take  it 
leisurely.  Pistol,  take  mv  arm,  I  am  not  afraid  of  you  now.' 

"'Why?' 

" '  Your  powder  is  wet,  and  you  can't  go  off.  You  are  quite 
harmless.  Target,  you  had  better  run.' 

"'Why?' 

"  '  You  will  be  sure  to  be  hit,  if  you  don't — won't  he,  Trigger  ?' 

"  But  Pistol,  and  Target,  and  Trigger  are  alike  silent.  G  soft 
has  lost  his  soft ncuft,  and  lets  fall  some  hard  terms.  Every  one 
hoi  Is  down  his  head,  why,  1  can't  understand,  because  being  soaked, 
tha'  attitude  can't  dry.  them. 


203  GIPSETING. 

"  '  Uncle,'  says  Di,  to  the  head  of  the  firm,  '  you  appear  to  enjoy 
it,  you  are  buttoning  up  your  coat  as  if  yo>  wanted  to  keep  the 
rain  in.' 

'•  '  I  wish  you  would  keep  your  tongue  in,'  he  said  gruffly. 

"  '  I  oamo  for  a  party  of  pleasure,'  said  th>  unconquerable  girl, 
'and  I  think  there  is  great  fun  in  this.  Hen  1  feel  sorry  for  you, 
you  can't  stand  the  wet  as  those  darling  cVoks  c;in.  Aunt,  will 
shake  herself  directly,  and  be  as  dry  as  an  l'i<V"i  rubber  model.' 

"  Aunt  is  angry,  but  can't  answer — ev?ry  d*p  of  thunder  makes 
her  scream.  Sarah  Matilda  has  lost  her  shoe  uud  the  water  has 
closed  over  it,  and  she  can't  find  it.  'Pistol,  where  is  your  cork- 
screw, draw  it  out.'  " 

"'It's  all  your  fault,'  sais  the  sleepi^a  partner,  to  the  head  of 
the  firm,  '1  told  you  to  bring  the  umbrellas.' 

"  '  It's  all  yours,'  retorts  the  afflicted  husband  '  I  told  you  these 
things  were  all  nonsense  and  more  trouble  than  they  were  worth.' 

"  '  It's  all  Hen's  fault,'  said  Di,  '  for  we  f,s>rne  on  purpose  to 
bring  her  out ;  she  had  never  been  at  a  picnic  before,  and  it's  holi- 
days now.  Oh  !  the  brool;  has  risen,  Mid  the  plunks  are  gone,  we 
shall  have  to  wade;  Hen,  ask  those  men  to  go  be.'bre,  I  don't  like 
them  to  see  above  my  ankles.' 

"  '  Catch  me  ut  a  picnic  again,'  said  the  i'crrified  spinster. 

"  '  You  had  better  grt  h<>me  from  this  first,  before  you  talk  of 
another,'  sais  Di. 

"  '  Oh,  Di,  Di,'  said  Henrietta,  '  how  can  you  act  s<>  V 

"'You  may  say  Di,  Di,  if  you  please,  dear,'  said  the  tormentor; 
'but  I  never  say  die  — and  never  will  while  there  is  life  in  me. 
Letty,  will  you  go  to  the  ball  to-night  ?  vre  shall  catch  cold  if  \ve 
don't :  for  we  have  two  miles  more  of  the  rain  to  endure  in  the 
open  carriages  before  we  reach  the  ferry-boat,  and  we  shall  be 
chilled  when  we  cease  walking.' 

"  But  Letty  ran  do  nothing  but  cry  as  if  shs  wasn't  wet  enough 
already. 

"  '  Good  grae'ous !'  sais  the  head  of  the  hous?,  '  the  horses  have 
overturned  the  carriage,  broke  the  pole,  and  run  away.' 

'"  What's  the.  upset  price  of  it,  I  wonder?'  sais  Di,  '  the  horses 
will  make  their  election  sure,'  they  are  at  the  '  head  of  the  pole,  as 
they  have  left  no  trace  behind.  1  wish  they  had  taken  the  rain 
with  them  also."' 

"It's  a  pity  you  wouldn't  rein  your  4ongue  in  also,'  said  the 
fractious  uncle. 

"  '  Well,  I  will  Nunky,  if  you  will  restrain  your  choler.  De 
Cpurcy,  the  horses  arc  otT  at 'a  'smashing  pace  ;'  G  soft,  it's  all 
dickey  with  is  now,  aint  it?  But  that  milk-sup,  Russe),  »s  making 
a  noise  in  his  bot>ts.  as  if  he  was  '  churning  butter.'  Well,  i 
never  enjoyed  anything  sj  much  as  this  in  my  life  ;  I  do  w'-?b  tb«, 


THE     WOULD     BKFORK     THE     FLOOD.  209 

Mudges  bad  been  here,  it  is  the  only  thing  wanting  to  make  this 
picnic  perfect.  What  do  you  say,  Target  V 

'•  But  Target  don't  answer,  he  only  mutters  between  his  teeth 
something  that  sounds  like,  'what  a  devil  that  girl  is!'  Nobody 
minds  teazing  now  ;  their  tempers  arc  subdued,  and  they  are  dull, 
weary,  and  silent — dissatisfied  with  themselves,  with  each  other, 
and  the  day  of  pleasure. 

"  How  could  it  be  otherwise?  It  is  a  thing  they  didn't  under 
stand,  and  had  no  taste  for.  They  took  a  deal  of  trouble  to  get 
away  frorti  the  main  road  as  far  as  possible;  they  never  penetrated 
farther  into  the  forest  than  to  obtain  a  shade,  and  there  eat  an 
uncomfortable  cold  dinner,  sitting  on  the  ground,  had  an  ill- 
assorted  party,  provided  no  amusements,  were  thoroughly  bored, 
and  drenched  to  the  skin — and  this  some  people  call  a  day  in  the 
bush. 

"  There  is  an  old  proverb,  that  has  a  hidden  meaning  in  it,  that 
is  apple-able  to  this  sort  of  thing — '  As  a  man  callelh  in  the  wovds, 
to  it  shall  be  answered  to  him.1" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
THE    WORLD    BEFORE  THE    FLOOD. 

WE  made  another  attempt  at  walking  on  the  deck — the  moon 
was  trying  to  struggle  through  the  fog,  which  was  now  of  a  bright 
copper  color. 

"  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  have  you  ever  seen  a  yellow  fog,  before?" 

u  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  have  seen  a  white,  black,  red,  and  yellow 
fog,"  and  went  ofl'into  a  disquisition  about  optics,  mediums,* reflec- 
tions, retractions,  and  all  sorts  of  scientific  terms. 

Well  I  d«>n't  like  hard  words,  when  \ou  crack  them,  which  is 
plaguy  tough  work,  you  have  to  pick  the  kernel  out  with  a  cam- 
bric needle,  and  unless  it's  soaked  in  wine,  like  the  heart  of  a  hick- 
ory nut  is,  it  don't  taste  nice  and  don't  pay  you  fur  the  trouble. 
So  to  change  the  subject,  "  Doctor."  sais  I,  "  how  long  is  this  ever- 
lasting mnllatto  lookin'  fog  a-goin'  to  last,  for  it  ain't  white  and  it 
ain't  black,  but  kind  of  betwixt  and  between." 

Sais  he,  a?  d  he  stopped  and  listened  a  moment,  "it  will  be  gone 
oy  twelve  o'clock  to-night." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?"  said  I. 

"  Do  you  hear  that?"  said  he. 

"  Yes"'  sais  I.  "J  do;  it's  children  a  play  in  and  a  chatterin'  in 


210      THE  WOULD  B  E  F  O  K  K  THE  FLOOD. 

Fiench.  Now  it's  nateral  they  should  talk  French,  seein'  the'u 
parents  do.  Fathers  tote  their  young  ones  about,  and  mothers 
scold  them  in  it — therefore  they  call  it  the  mother  lo.igue,  for' old 
wives  are  like  old  bosses,  they  are  all  tongue,  and  when  their  teeth 
is  gone,  that  unruly  member  grows  thicker  and  bigger,  fur.  it  has  a 
larger  bed  to  stretch  out  in — not  that  it  ever  s-leeps  much,  but  it 
has  a  larger  sphere  of  action — do  you  take  ]  I  don't  know  whether 
vou  have  had  this  feeling  of  surprise,  but  I  have,  to  hear  those 
little  imps  ta  k  French,  when  to  save  your  soul,  you  can't  jabber  it 
that  way  yourself.  In  course  of  nature  they  must  talk  that  lingo, 
fur  they  are  quilted  in  French — kissed  in  French — fed  in  French — 
and  put  to  bed  in  French — and  t«.ld  to  pray  to  the  Virgin  in  French ; 
for  that's  the  language  she  loves  best.  She  knows  a  great  many 
languages,  but  she  can't  speak  English  since  Henry  the  Eighth's 
time,  when  she  said  to  him,  ''you  be  fiddled,"  which  meant,  the 
Scotch  should  come  with  their  iiddles,  and  rule  England. 

''Still  somehow  i  feel  strange,  when  these  little  critters  add res i 
me  in  it,  or  when  women  use  it  to  me  (tho'  I  don't  mind  so  much, 
for  there  are  certain  freemason  signs  the  fair  sex  understand  all 
over  the  world,)  but  the  men  puzzle  me  like  Old  Scratch,  and  I 
often  say  to  myself,  what  a  pity  it  is  the  critters  cair't  speak 
English.  I  never  pity  myself  for  nut  being  able  to  jabber  French, 
but  I  blush  for  their  ignorance.  However,  all  this  is  neither  here 
nor  there.  Now,  Doctor,  how  can  you  tell  this  fog  is  booked  for 
the  twelve  o'clock  tiain.  Is  there  a  Brad-haw  for  weather?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  there  is,  do  you  hear  that?" 

"  1  don't  hear  nothing,"  sais  1,  "•  but  two  Frenchmen  ashore  a 
jawing  like  mad.  One  darsent,  and  tot  her  is  afraid  to  fight,  so 
they  are  taking  it  out  in  gab  — they  ain't  worth  listening  to.  How 
do  they  tell  \  ou  the  weather  ?" 

"Oh."  said  he,  ''it  aiut  them!  Do  you  hear  the  falls  at  m_, 
lake?  the  west  wind  brings  that  to  us.  "\Vhen  1  am  there  and  the 
rote  is  on  the  beach,  it  tells  me  it  is  the  voice  of  the  south  wind 
giving  notice  of  rain.  All  nature  warns  me.  The  swallow,  the 
pig,  the  goose,  the  fire  on  the  hearth,  the  soot  in  the  flue,  the  smoke 
of  the  chimney,  the  rising  and  setting  sun,  the  white  frost,  the  stars 
—all,  all  tell  me." 

"Yes,"  sals  1,  "  when  I  am  to  home,  I  know  all  them  signs." 

"The  spider  too  is  my  guide,  and  the  ant.  But  the  little  pim- 
pernel, the  poor  man's  weather  glass,  and  the  convolvulus  are 
truer  than  any  barometer,  and  a  glass  of  water  never  lies." 

"Ah,  Doctor,"  said  1,  "you  and  1  read  and  study  the  same  book. 
i  don't  mean  to  assert  we  are  as  Sorrow  says,  nateral  children,  but 
we  are  both  children  of  nature,  and  honor  our  parents  1  agree 
with  you  about  the  fog,  but  I  wanted  to  see  if  you  could  answer 
signals  with  me.  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  ji  board.  You 


THK      WORLD     BEFORE     THE     FLOOD.  211 

want  amusement,  I  want  instruction.  I  will  swap  stories  with  you, 
for  bits  of  your  wisdom,  and  as  you  won'l  take  boot,  I  shall  be  a 
great  gainer/' 

After  a  good  deal  of  such  conversation,  we  went  below,  and  in 
due  season  turned  in,  in  a  place  where  true  comfort  consists  in  ob- 
livion. The  morning,  as  the  Doctor  predicted,  was  clear,  the  fog 
was  gone,  and  the  little  French  village  lay  before  us  in  all  the 
beauty  of  ugliness.  The  houses  were  small,  untainted,  and  unin- 
viting. Fish  flakes  were  spread  on  the  beach,  and  the  women  were 
busy  in  turning  the  cod  upon  thrin.  Boats  were  leaving  the  shore 
for  the  fi>hing-ground.  Each  of  these  was  manned  by  two  or  three 
or  four  hands,  who  made  as  much  noise  as  if  they  were  getting  a 
vessel  under  weigh,  and  were  severally  giving  orders  to  each  other 
with  a  rapidity  of  utterance,  that  no  people  but  Frenchmen  are 
capable  of. 

'•Every  nation,"  said  the  Doctor,  "has  its  peculiarity,  but  the 
French  Acadians  excel  all  others  in  their  adherence  to  their  own 
ways;  and  in  this  particular,  the  Chesencookers  surpass  even  their 
own  countrymen.  The  men  all  dress  alike,  and  the  women  all 
dress  alike,  as  you  will  presently  see,  and  always  have  done  so 
within  the  iiiemory  of  man.  A  round,  short  jacket  which  scarcely 
covers  the  waistcoat,  trowsers  that  seldom  reach  below  the  ankle- 
joint,  and  yarn  stockings,  all  four  being  l>lue,  and  manuf.ictured  at 
home,  and  apparently  dyed  in  the  same  tub,  with  moccasins  for 
the  feet,  and  a  round  fur  or  cloth  cap  to  cover  the  head,  constitute 
the  uniform  and  unvaried  dress  of  the  men.  The  attire  of  the 
women  is  equally  simple.  The  >hort  gown  which  reaches  to  the 
hip.  and  the  petticoat  which  serves  for  a  skirt,  both  made  of  a  coarse 
domestic  cloth,  having  perpendicular  blue  and  white  stripes,  consti- 
tute the  difference  of  dress  that  marks  the  distinction  of  the  sexes, 
if  we  except  a  handkerchief  thrown  over  the  head,  and  tied  under 
the  chin,  for  the  blue  stockings  and  the  moccasins  are  common  to 
both,  males  and  females. 

There  has  been  no  innovation  for  a  century  in  these  particulars, 
unless  it  be  that  a  hat  has  Ibund  its  way  into  Chesencook,  not  that 
such  a  stove-pipe  looking  thing  as  that,  has  any  beauty  in  it:  but 
the  boys  of  Halifax  are  not  to  be  despised,  if  a  hat  is,  and  even  an 
ourang-outrang  if  he  ventured  to  walk  about  the  streets  would  nave 
to  submit  to  wear  one.  But  the  case  is  different  wit,h  women,  es- 
pecially modest,  discreet,  unobtrusive  women,  like  those  of  the 
'long  shore  French.'  They  are  stared  at  because  they  dress  like 
those  in  the  world  before  the  flood,  but  it's  an  even  chance  if  the 
antediluvian  damsels  were  half  so  handsome;  and  what  pretty  girl 
can  find  it  in  her  heart  to  be  very  angr\  at  attracting  attention  { 
Yes,  their  simple  manners,  their  innocence  and  their  »ex  are  their 
protection.  But  n^  cap,  bonnet,  or  ribbon  ;  velvet,  muslin,  or  lace, 


212  THE     WORLD     BKFOKE     'IHK     FLOOD. 

was  ever  seen  at  Chesencook.  Whether  this  neglect  of  finery  (the 
love  of  which  is  so  natural  to  their  countrywomen  in  Europe,)  arises 
from  a  deep-rooted  veneration  for  the  ways  of  their  predecessors, 
or  from  the  sage  counsel  of  their  spiritual  instructors,  who  desire 
to  keep  them  from  the  contamination  of  the  heretical  world  around 
them,  or  fiom  the  conviction  that 

"  The  adorning  thee  with  so  much  art 

Is  but  a  barbarous  skill, 
'Tis  like  the  barbing  of  a  dart, 
Too  apt  bei»re  to  kill." 

I  know  not,  but  such  is  the  fact  nevertheless,  and  you  ought  to 
record  it,  as  an  instance  in  which  they  have  shown  their  superiority 
to  this  universal  weakness.  Still  both  men  and  women  are  decently 
and  comfortably  clad.  Thereis  no  such  thing  as  a  ragged  Acadian, 
and  1  never  yet  saw  one  begging  his  bread.  Some  people  are  dis- 
tinguished for  their  industry,  others  for  their  idleness,  some  for 
their  ingenuity,  and  others  for  their  patience,  but  the  great 
characteristic  of  an  Arcadian  is  talk,  and  his  talk  is  from  its  novelty 
amusing  and  instructive  even  in  its  nonsense. 

"  These  people  live  close  to  the  banks  where  cod  are  found,  and 
but  little  time  is  required  in  proceeding  to  the  scene  of  their  labor ; 
therefore  there  is  no  necessity  for  being  in  a  hurry,  and  there  is 
lots  of  time  for  palaver.  Every  boat  has  an  oracle  in  it,  ssho 
speaks  with  an  air  of  authority.  He  i.s  a  great  talker,  and  a  great 
smoker,  and  he  chats  so  skilfully,  that  he  enjoys  his  pipe  at  the 
same  time,  and  manages  it  so  as  not  to  interrupt  his  jabbering. 
He  can  smoke,  talk,  and  row  at  once.  He  don't  smoke  fast,  for 
that  pats  his  pipe  out  by  consuming  his  tobacco  ;  nor  row  fast,  for 
it  fatigues  him." 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I;  "but  the  tongue,  I  suppose,  having,  like  a 
clock,  a  locomotive  power  of  its  own,  goes  like  one  of  iny  wooden 
ones,  for  twenty-four  hours  without  ceasing,  and  like  one  of  them 
also,  when  it's  e'en  amost  worn  out  and  up  in  years,  goes  at  the 
rate  of  one  hundred  minutes  to  the  hour,  strikes  without  counting 
the  number,  and  gives  good  measure,  banging  away  often  twenty 
times  at  one  o'clock." 

Every  boat  now  steered  for  the  "  Black  Hawk,"  and  the  oracle 
stopped  talking  French,  to  practise  English.  u  How  \  ou  do, 
Sare  ?  how  )ou  do  your  wife?"  said  Lewis  Le  Blanc,  address- 
ing me. 

"  I  have  no  wife." 

"No  wife,  torn  pee?  Who  turn  your  fish  for  you  den '?" 
Whereat  they  all  laugh,  and  all  talk  French  again."  And  the 
oracle  says,  "  he  takes  his  own  eggs  to  market,  den  ?"  He  dou"» 


THE     WORLD     BEFORE     THE     FLOOD.  213 

laugh  .it  that,  for  wits  never  laugh  at  their  cwi  jokes ;  but  the  rest 
Biiicker  till  they  scream. 

•'  What  wind  are  we  going  to  have,  Lewis'?" 

Oracle  stands  up,  carefully  surveys  the  sky,  and  notices  all  the 
signs,  and  then  looks  wise,  and  answers  in  a  way  that  there  can  be 
no  mistake.  "  Now  you  see,  Sare,  if  de  wind  blow*  oft"  de  shore, 
den  it  will  be  west  wind  ;  if  it  blow  from  de  s«-a,  den  it  will  be 
east  wind  ;  and  if  it  blow  cown  coast,"  pointing  to  each  quarter 
with  his  hand,  like  a  weather-cock,  ''den  it  will  sartain  be  sout ; 
and  up  de  coast,  den  \  ou  will  be  sartain  it  will  come  from  de  nort. 
1  never  knew  dat  sign  fail.''  And  he  takes  his  pipe  from  his 
inoutli,  knocks  some  ashes  out  of  it  and  spits  in  the  water,  as  much 
as  to  say,  now  1  am  ready  to  swear  to  that.  And  well  he  may, 
for  it  amounts  to  this,  that  the  .wind  will  blow  fioin  any  quarter  it 
comes  trom.  Tne  other  three  all  regard  him  with  as  much  respect,- 
as  if  he  was  clerk  of  the  weather. 

"  Interesting  people  these,  Doctor,"  said  I,'':aint  they  ?  It's  the 
world  before  the  Hood.  J  wonder  if  they  know  how  to  trade  ? 
Barter  v/as  the  primitive  traffick.  G>rn  was  given  for  oil,  and  fish 
for  honey,  and  sheep  and  goats  for  oxen  and  horses,  and  so  on. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  trickery  in  barter,  too,  for  necessity  has 
1,0  laws.  The  value  of  money  we  know,  and  a  thing  is  worth  what 
it  will  fetch  in  cash ;  but  swapping  is  a  different  matter.  It's  a 
horse  of  a  different  color." 

"  You  will  find,"  said  the  Doctor,  *'  the  men  (I  except  the  other 
sex  alwaxs)  are  as  acute  as  you  are  at  a  bargain.  You  are  more 
like  to  be  bitten  than  to  bite,  if  you  try  that  game  with  them." 

'•  Bet  you  a  dollar,"  sais  I,  "  I  sell  that  old  coon  as  easy  as 
a  clock.  What !  a  Chesencooker  a  match  for  a  Yankee  !  Come,  I 
like  that ;  that  is  good.  Here  goes  for  a  trial,  at  any  rate." 

"  Mounseer,"  sais  I,  "  have  you  any  wood  to  sell  ?" 

We  didn't  need  no  wood  ;  but  it  don't  do  to  begin  to  ask  for 
what  you  want,  or  you  can't  do  nothen. 

"  Yes,"  said  he. 

"  What's  the  price,"  said  I,  "cash  down  on  the  nail?"  for  I  knew 
the  critter  would  see  "  the  point'1''  of  coming  down  with  the  blunt. 

"  It's  ten  dollars  and  a  half,"  said  he,  "a  cord  at  Halifax,  and  it 
don't  cost  nothen  to  carry  it  there,  for  1  have  my  own  shallop — but 
J  will  sell  it  for  ten  dollars  to  oblige  you."  That  was  just  seven 
dollars  more  than  it  was  worth. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  u  that's  not  high,  only  cash  is  scarce.  If  yot 
will  take  macarel  in  pay  at  six  dollars, a  barrel,  (which  was  two 
dollars  more  than  its  value,)  praps  we  might  trade.  Could  you 
sell  me  twenty  cord?" 

"  Yes,  may  be  twenty-five." 

"  And  the  macarel  ?"  said  I. 


214  THK      WORLD     BEFORE     THE      F  L  O  O  t»  . 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  maearel  is  only  worth  three  dollars  and  a  half 
at  Halifax.  I  can't  sell  mine  even  at  that.  1  have  sixty  barrels, 
number  one,  for  sale." 

"  It'  von  will  promise  me  to  let  me  have  all  the  wood  I  want, 
more  or  Jess,"  sais  I,  '•  even  if  it  is  ever  so  little  ;  or  as  much, 
thirty  eorcls,  at  ten  dollars,  real  rock  maple  and  yellow  birch,  then 
1  will  take  all  your  maearel  at  three  and  a  half  dollars,  money 
down." 

"Say  four,"  said  ho. 

"No,"  sals  1. 

"  You  say  you  can't  git  but  three  and  a  half  at  Halifax,  and  i 
won't  beat  you  down,  nor  advance  mvself  one  cunt.  But  mind,  if 

•/  *> 

I  oblige  you  by  buying  all  your  maearel,  you  must  oblige  me  by 
letting  me  have  all  the  wood  1  want." 

'•  Done,"  said  he  ;  so  we  warped  into  the  wharf,  took  the  fi  h  on 
board,  and  1  paid  him  the  money,  and  cleared  fifteen  pounds  by  the 
operation. 

"  Now,"  sais  I,  "  where  is  the  wood?" 

'•  All  this  is  mine,"'  said  he,  pointing  to  a  pile  containing  about 
fifty  cords. 

"  Can  1  have  it  all,"  said  I,  "  if  I  want  it  1" 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  scratched  his  head  ;  scratching  helps  a 
rnan  to  think  amazingly.  lie  thought  he  had  better  ask  a  little 
more  than  ten  dollars,  as  I  appeared  to  be  so  ready  to  buy  at  any 
price.  So  he  said, 

"  Yes,  you  may  have  it  all  at  ten  and  a  half  dollars." 

"  1  thought  you  said,  1  might  have  what  1  wanted  at  ten." 

"  Well,  1  have  changed  my  mind,"  said  he;   "  it  is  too  low." 

"And  so  have  1,"  sais  I  ;  '•  1  won't  trade  with  a  man  th.it  acts 
that  way,"  and  I  went  on  board,  and  the  men  cast  off  and  began  to 
warp  the  vessel  again  up  to  her  anchor. 

Lesvis  took  oti  his  cap  and  began  scratching  his  head  again,  he 
had  over-reached  himself.  Expecting  an  immense  profit  on  his 
wood,  he  had  sold  his  fish  very  low  ;  he  saw  I  was  in  earnest,  and 
jumped  on  board. 

"  Capitaine,  you  will  have  him  at  ten,  so  much  as  you  want  of 
him." 

"  Well,  measure  me  off  half  a  cord." 

"  What !"  said  he,  opening  both  eyes  to  their  full  extent. 

"  Measure  me  off  half  a  cord." 

"Didn't  you  say  you  wanted  twenty  or  ihirtv  cord  ?" 

"No,"  1  said;  "I  must  have  I  hat  much  if'l  wanted  it,  hut  \ 
•ion't  want  it ;  it  is  only  worth  three  dollars,  and  von  have  hud  the 
modesty  to  ask  ten,  and  then  ten  and  a  half,  but  1  will  take  half  a 
cord  to  please  you  ;  so  measure  it  off." 

He  stormed,  and  raved,  and  swore,  and  threw  his  cap  down  on 


THE     WORLD     BEFORE     THE     FLOOD.  2it> 

the  deck  and  jumped  on  it,  and  stretched  out  his  arm  as  if  he  was 
going  to  fight,  and  stretched  out  his  wi/zened  face  as  if  i'  made 
halloing  easier,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth  like  a  boss  that  has  eat 
lobelia  in  his  hay. 

"Be  gar,"  he  said.  "I  shall  sue  you  before  the  common  scoun 
drels  (council)  at  Halifax  ;  1  shall  take  it  before  the  sperm  (supreme) 
court,  and  try  it  out." 

"  How  much  He  will  you  get,"  sais  I,  "by  tryiii  me  out,  do  you 
think  ?" 

"  Never  mind,"  said  I,  in  a  loud  voice,  and  looking  over  him  it 
the  mate,  and  pretending  to  answer  him.  "  Never  mind  if  he 
won't  go  on  shore,  he  is  welcome  to  stay,  and  we  will  laud  him 
on  the  Isle  of  Sable,  and  catch  a  wild  hoss  for  him  to  ride  home 
on." 

"  The  hint  was  electrical ;  he  picked  up  his  cap  and  ran  aft,  and 
with  one  desperate  leap  reached  the  wharf  in  safety,  when  he 
turned  and  danced  as  before  with  rage,  and  his  last  audible  words 
were,  '  Be  gar,  1  shall  go  to  the  sperm  court  and  try  it  out.' " 

"  In  the  world  before  the  flood,  you  see,  Doctor,1'  said  1.  "  they 
knew  how  to  cheat  as  well  as  the  present  race  do;  the  only  ira 
provernent  this  fellow  has  made  on  the  antediluvian  race  is,  he  can 
take  himself  in  as  well  as  others." 

"  1  have  often  thought,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  th»*,  in  our  dealings 
w  life,  and  particularly  in  trading,  a  difficult  question  must  often 
arise  whether  a  thing,  notwithstanding  the  worM  sanctions  it,  is 
lawful  and  right.  Now  what  is  your  idea  of  smuggling  V 

"  1  never  smuggled,"  said  I ;  "I  have  sometimes  imported  poods 
and  didn't  pay  the  duties  ;  not  that  1  wanted  to  smuggle,  but  be- 
cause 1  hadn't  time,  to  go  to  the  office.  It's  a  go--d  deal  of  trouble 
to  go  to  a  custom-house.  When  you  get  there,  you  are  sure  to  be 
delayed,  and  half  the  time  to  git  sarce.  It  cost*  a  good  deal  •  no 
one  thanks  you,  ai:d  nobody  defrays  cab-hire^and  makes  up  for 
lost  time,  temper,  and  patience  to  you — it  don't  pay  in  a  genera) 
way  ;  sometimes  it  will  ;  for  instance,  when  1  l^fl.  the  embassy.  ) 
made  thirty  thousand  pounds  of  your  money  by  one  operation. 
Lead  was  scarce  in  our  market,  and  very  high,  and  the  duty  was 
one-third  of  the  prime  cost,  as  a  protection  to  the  native  article. 
So  what  does  1  do  but  go  to  old  Galena,  one  of  the  greatest  dealers 
in  the  lead-trade  in  Great  Britain,  and  ascertained  the  wholesale 
price. 

"Sais  I,  'I  want  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  worth  of  lead.' 

"  'That  is  an  immense  order,'  said  he,  'Mr.  Slick.  'Ihere  i.->  no 
market  in  the  world  that  can  absorb  so  much  at  once.' 

" 'The  loss  will  be  mine,' said  I.  '\\hat  deductions  will  you 
make  if  I  take  it  a!:  from  your  house?' 

"  Well,  he  came  down  handsome,  and  did  the  thing  genteel. 


216      THE  WORLD  B  E  V  O  R  E  THE  FLOOD. 

"  '  Now,'  sais  I,  '  will  you  let  one  of  your  people  go  to  my  cab 
and  bring  a  mould  I  have  there1?' 

"  Well,  it  was  done. 

"  '  There,'  sale  I,  '  is  a  large  bust  of  Washington.  Every  citizen 
of  the  United  States  ought  to  have  one.  if  he  has  a  dust  of  patriot- 
ism  in  him.  I  must  have  the  lead  cast  into  rough  busts  like  that.' 

"  '  Hollow,'  said  he,  'of  course.' 

"  '  No,  no,'  sais  1,  '  by  no  manner  of  means  ;  the  heavier  and 
solider  the  better.' 

"  '  But,'  said  Galena,  'Mr.  Slick,  excuse  me,  though  it  is  against 
my  own  interest,  I  cannot  but  suggest  you  might  find  a  cheaper 
material,  and  one  more  suitable  to  your  very  laudable  object.' 

"'Not  at  all,' said  1  ;  '  lead  is  the  very  identical  thing.  If  a 
man  don't  like  the  statue  and  its  price,  and  it's  like  as  not  he  won't, 
he  will  like  the  lead.  There  is  no  duty  on  statuary,  but  there  is 
more  than  thirty  per  cent,  on  lead.  The  duty  alone  is  a  fortune, 
of  not  less  than  thirty  thousand  pounds,  after  all  expenses  are 
paid.' 

"  '  Well,  now,'  said  he,  throwing  back  his  head  and  laughing, 
'that  is  the  most  ingenious  device  to  evade  duties  I  ever  heard  of.' 

"  1  immediately  gave  orders  to  my  agents  at  Liverpool  to  send 
so  many  tons  of  Washington  to  every  port  and  place  on  the  sea- 
board of  the  United  States,  except  New  York,  but  not  too  many 
to  any  one  town  ;  and  then  I  took  passage  in  a  steamer,  and 
ordered  all  my  agents  to  close  the  consignment  immediately,  and 
let  the  lead  hero  change  hands.  It  was  generally  allowed  to  be  the 
handsomest  operation  ever  performed  in  our  country.  Connecticut 
offered  to  send  me  to  Congress  f  r  it ;  the  folks  felt  so  proud 
of  me. 

"  But  I  don't  call  that  smugglin'.  It  is  a  skilful  reading  of  a 
revenue  law.  My  idea  of  snuigglin'  is,  there  is  the  duty  and  there 
is  the  penalty;  pay  one  and  escape  the  other  if  you  like;  if  not, 
run  your  chance  of  the  penalty.  If  the  state  wants  revenue,  let  it 
collect  its  clues.  If  I  want  my  debts  got  in,  I  attend  to  drummin' 
theix>  up  together  myself;  let  government  do  the  same.  There 
isn't  a  bit  of  harm  in  smugglin'.  I  don't  like  a  law  restraining 
liberty.  Let  them  that  impose  shackles,  look  to  the  bolts;  that's 
my  idea." 

"  That  argument  won't  hold  water,  Slick,"  said  the  Doctor 
"  Why  1" 

Because  It  is  as  full  of  holes  as  a  cullender." 


How  •{• 

n 

ro 


"  The  obligation  between  a  government  and  a  people  is  recip- 
cal.  I'.i  piofcect  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  support  on  the  other 
laxes  are  imposed,  first,  for  the  maintenance  of  the  government' 
and  secondly,  for  such  other  objects  as  are  deemed  necessary  or 


T  II  E      WORLD     BEFORE     THE      FLOOD. 

expedient.  The  moment  goods  are  imported  which  are  subject  to 
such  exactions,  the  amount  of  the  tax  is  a  debt  due  to  the  sta'e, 
the  evasion  or  denial  of  which  is  a  fraud.  The  penalty  is  not  an 
alternative  at  your  option  ;  it  is  a  punishment,  and  that  always 
pre-supposes  an  offence.  There  is  no  difference  between  defrauding 
the  state  or  an  individual.  Corporeality  or  incorporeal ity  has  no- 
thing to  do  with  the  matter." 

4i  Well,"  sais  I,  "  Domine  Doctor,  that  doctrine  of  implicit  obe- 
dience ti>  the  government  won't  hold  water  neither;  otherwise,  if 
you  had  lived  in  Cromwell's  time,  you  would  have  to  have  assisted 
in  cutting  the  king's  head  off,  or  fight  in  an  unjust  war,  or  a  thous- 
and other  wicked  but  legal  things.  I  believe  every  tub  must  stand 
on  its  own  bottom  ;  general  rules  won't  do;  Take  each  separate 
mid  judge  of  it  by  itself." 

"  Exactly,"  sais  the  Doctor ;  "  try  that  in  law  and  see  how  it 
would  work.  No  two  cases  would  be  decided  alike;  you'd  be 
adrift  at  once,  and  a  drifting  ship  soon  touches  bottom.  No,  that 
won't  hold  water.  Stick  to  general  principles,  and  if  a  thing  is  &n 
exception  to  the  rule,  put  it  in  Schedule  A  or  B,  mid  you  know 
where  to  look  for  it.  General  rules  are  fixed  principles.  But  you 
are  only  talking  for  talk  sake ;  I  know  you  are.  Do  you  think 
now  that  merchant  did  right  to  aid  you  in  evading  the  duty  on 
\our  leaden  Washingtons  ?  " 

"  What  the  plague  had  he  to  do  with  our  revenue  laws  ?  They 
don't  bind  him,"  sais  1. 

"No,"  said  the  Doctor,  "but  there  is  a  higher  law  than  the 
statutes  of  the  States  or  of  England  either,  and  that  is  the  moral 
law.  In  aiding  you,  he  made  the  greatest  sale  of  lead  ever  effected 
at  once  in  England  ;  the  profit  on  that  was  his  share  of  the  smug 
gling.  But  you  are  only  drawing  me  out  to  see  what  I  am  made 
of.  Yon  are  an  awful  man  for  a  bam.  There  goes  old  Lewis  to  hia 
fishing  boat,"  sais  he.  "  Look  at  him  shaking  his  fist  at  you.  Do 
you  hear  him  jabbering  away  about  trying  it  out  in  the  '  sperm 
court  ? ' ' 

41  I'll  make  him  draw  his  fist  in,  I  know,"  sais  I.  So  I  seized  my 
rifle,  and  stepped  behind  the  mast,  so  that  he  could  not  see  me; 
and  as  a  large  gray  gull  was  passing  <>ver  his  boat,  high  up  in  the 
air,  I  fired,  and  down  it  fell  on  the  old  coon's,  head  so  heavily  and 
so  suddenly,  he  thought  he  was  shot;  and  he  and  the  others  set  np 
a  yi'll  of  fright  and  terror  that  made  everybody  on  board  of  the 
little  fleet  of  coasters  that  were  anchored  round  us,  combine  in 
three  of  the  heartiest,  merriest,  and  loudest  cheers  1  ever  heard. 

"  Try  that  out  in  the  sperm  court,  you  old  bull-frog,"  sais  I.     "  1 
gues.;  there  is  more  ile  to  be  found  in  that  fishy  gentleman  than  m 
me.     "  Well,"  sais  I,  v>  Doctor,  to  get  back  to  what  we  wa*  a  talk- 
ing of.     It's   a  tight  squeeze  sometimes  to  scroug-1  between  a  U«» 
10 


218  THE     WORLD     BEFORE     T  H  £     J  I.  O  O  D  . 

and  a  truth  in  business,  ain't  it  ?  The  passage  is  so  narrow,  if  you 
don't  lake  care  it  will  rip  your  trowser  buttons  off  in  spite  of  yon. 
fortunately  I  am  thin  and  can  do  it  like  an  eel,  squinney  Cushion  ; 
but  a  stout,  awkward  fellow  is  most  sure  to  be  catchud. 

"  1  shall  never  forget  a  rise  1  once  took  out  of  a  set  of  jock  IPS  at 
Albany.  1  had  an  everlastin'  fast  Naraganset  pacer  once  to  Slick* 
ville,  one  that  I  had  purchased  in  Mandarin's  p'aee.  1  was  1-0:1 
siderable  proud  of  him,  I  do  assure  you,  for  he  took  the  rag  off  ilia 
bush  in  great  style.  Well,  our  stable-help,  Pat  Monoghan,  (him  I 
used  to  call  Mr.  Monoghan)  would  stuff  him  with  fresh  clover 
without  me  knowing  it,  and  as  sure  as  rates,  I  broke  his  wind  in 
driving  him  too  fast.  It  gave  him  the  heaves,  that  is,  it  made  his 
flanks  heave  like  a  blacksmith's  bellows.  We  call  it  'heaves,' 
Britishers  call  it  'broken  wind.'  Well,  there  is  no  cure  for  it, 
though  some  folks  tell  yon  a  hornet's  nest  cut  up  line,  and  put  in 
their  meal  will  do  it,  and  others  say  sift  the  oats  clean,  and  give 
them  juniper  berries  in  it,  and  that  will  do  it,  or  ground  ginger,  01 
tar,  or  what  ii"t ;  but  these  are  all  quackeries.  You  can't  eure  it, 
for  it's  a  ruption  of  an  air  vessel,  and  you  can't  get  at  it  to  sew  it 
up.  But  you  can  fix  it  up  by  diet  and  care,  and  proper  usage,  so 
that  you  can  deceive  even  an  old  hand,  providin'  you  don't  let  him 
ride  or  drive  the  beast  too  fast. 

"'  Well,  I  doctored  and  worked  with  him  so,  the  most  that  could 
be  perceived  was  a  slight  cold,  nothen'  to  mind,  much  les*  frighten 
you.  And  when  I  got  him  up  to  the  notch,  I  advertised  him  tor 
sale,  as  belonging  to  a  person  going  down  east,  who  only  parted 
with  him  because  he  thought  him  too  heaw //  for  a  man  who  ne^er 
travelled  less  than  a  mile  in  two  minutes  and  twenty  seconds. 
Well,  he  was  sold  at  auction,  and  knocked  down  to  Hip  Van  Dam. 
the  Attorney -General,  for  five  hundred  dollars;  and  the  owner  put 
a  saddle  and  bridle  on  him,  and  took  a  bet  of  two  hundred  dollars 
with  me,  he  could  do  a  mile  in  two  minutes,  fifty  seconds,  lie 
didn't  know  me  from  Adam  parsonally,  at  the  time,  but  he  had 
heard  of  me,  and  bought  the  horse,  because  it  was  said  Sam  Slick 
owned  hirn. 

"  Well,  he  started  off,  and  lost  his  bet ;  for  when  he  got  near  I  he 
winnin'  post  the  horse  choked,  fell,  and  pitched  the  rider  off  half- 
way to  Troy,  and  nearly  died  himself.  The  umpire  handed  me 
the  money,  and  I  dug  out  for  the  steam-boat  intendin'  to  pull  foot 
for  home.  Just  as  I  reached  the  wharf,  1  heard  my  name  called 
out,  but  I  didn't  let  on  1  noticed  it,  and  walked  a-heacl.  Presently. 
Van  Dam  seized  me  by  the  shoulder,  quite  out  of  breath,  puilin' 
and  blowin'  like  a  porpoise. 

"  '  Mr.  Slick,'  said  he. 

"  '  Yes,'  sais  I,  '  what's  left  of  me ;  but  good  gracious,'  sais  L 
'  you  have  got  the  '  heaves.'  1  hope  it  ain't  catchin.' 


THE     WORLD     BKFOKE     THE     FLOOD.  219 

" '  No  I  haven't,'  said  he,  '  but  your  cussed  hoss  has,  and  nearly 
broke  my  neck.  You  are  like  all  the  Connecticut  men  I  ever  soe, 
a  nastv,  mean,  long-nocked,  long-legged,  narrow-chested,  slab-sided, 
narrow-souied,  lantern-jawed,  Yankee  cheat.' 

"'  Well,'  sais  I,  'that's  a  considerable  of  a  long  name  to  write 
on  the  back  of  a  letter,  ain't  it  I  It  ain't  good  to  use  such  a  swud 
of  words,  it's  no  wonder  you  have  the  heaves;  but  I'll  cure  you  ;  I 
warn't  brought  up  to  wranglin' ;  I  hain't  time  to  fight  you,  and 
Besides,'  said  I,  'you  are  broken-winded;  but  I'll  heave  you  over 
the  vharf to  cool  \ou,  boots  and  all,  by  gravy.' 

"•Didn't  y>u  advertise,'  said  he,  '  that  the  only  reason  you  had 
to  part  with  that  horse  was,  that  he  was  too  heavy  for  a  man  who 
never  travelled  slower  than  a  mile  in  two  minutes  and  twenty 
secon 'Is.' 

"'Never!'  sais  I,  '  I  never  said  such  a  word.  What  will  you 
bet  I  d  d  r 

"  '  Fifty  dollars,'  said  he. 

"  '  Done,'  said  I.  And  Vanderbilt  (he  was  just  going  on  board 
the  steamer  at  the  time,)  'Vanderbilt,'  sais  I,  'hold  these  stakes. 
Fiiend,'  sais  I,  'I  won't  say  you  lie,  but  you  talk  uncommonly  like 
the  way  I  do  when  I  lie.  Now  prove  it.' 

"  And  he  pulled  out  one  of  my  printed  advertisements,  and  said 
'  rea.l  that.' 

"  Well,  I  read  it,     '  It  ain't  there,'  said  I. 

"  '  Ain't  it  1 '  said  he.     '  I  leave  it  to  Vanderbilt  * 

" '  Mr.  Slick,'  said  he,  'you  have  lost — it  is  here.' 

"'  Will  you  bet  fifty  dollars,'  said  I,  '  though  )ou  have  seen  it 
that  it's  there]' 

"  *  Yes,'  said  he,  '  I  will.' 

"  '  Done,'  said  I.     '  Now  how  do  you  spell  heavy  ? ' 

"  *  H-e-a-v-y,'  said  he. 

"  '  Exactly,'  sais  I;  -so  do  I.  But  thus  is  spelt  hear-cy.  I  d!  J 
it  on  purpose.  I  scorn  to  take  a  man  in  about  a  horse,  so  I  pub- 
lished his  defect  to  all  the  world.  I  said  he  was  too  heavey  for  har 
ness,  and  so  he  is.  He  aint  worth  fifty  dollars — I  wouldn't  take 
him  as  a  gift — he  aint  worth  von  dam.' 

"  '  Well,  I  did  see  that,'  said  he,  '  but  I  thought  it  was  an  error 
of  the  press,  or  that  the  owner  couldn't  spell.' 

"  '  Oh  !'  sais  I,  '  don't  take  me  for  one  of  your  Dutch  boors,  I 
beg  of  you.  I  can  spell,  but  you  can't  read,*  that's  all.  You  re- 
mind me,'  says  I,  "of  a  feller  in  Slickville,  when  the  six-cent  letter 
stamps  came  in  fashion.  He  licked  the  stamp  so  hard,  he  took  all 
the  gum  off,  and  it  wouldn't  stay  on,  no  how  he  could  fix  it,  so 
what  does  he  do  but  put  a  pin  through  it,  and  writes  on  the  letter, 
"  Paid,  if  the  darned  thing  will  only  stick."  Now  if  you  go  jnid 
lick  the  stamp  eternally  that  way,  folks  will  put  a  pin*  tiiroi^b  it, 


220      THE  WORLD  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD. 

and  the  story  will  stick  to  you  for  ever  and  ever.     But  come  on 
board,  and  let's  liquor,  and  I  will  stand  treat.' 

"  I  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  critter,  and  I  told  him  ho\v  to  feed  tho 
horse,  and  advised  him  to  take  him  to  Saratoga,  advertise  him.  and 
sell  him  the  same  way  ;  and  he  did,  and  got  rid  of  him.  The  rise 
raised  his  character  as  a  lawyer  amazing.  He  was  elected  gov 
ernor  next  year. 

"  Now  I  don't  call  the  lead  Washingtons  nor  the  hravey  hors 
either  on  'em  a  case  of  cheat ;  but  1  do  think  a  man  ought  to  know 
how  to  read  a  law  and  how  to  read  an  advertisement,  don't  v  -u 
But  come,  let  us  go  ashore,  and  see  how  the  gals  look,  for  you  hav 
raised  my  curiosity." 

We  accordingly  had  the  boat  lowered  ;  and  taking  Sorrow  with 
us  to  see  if  he  could  do  anything  in  the  catering  line,  the  Doctor, 
Cutler,  and  myself  landed  on  the  beach,  and  walked  round  the  set- 
tlement. 

The  shore  was  covered  with  fish  flakes,  which  sent  up  an  aroma 
not  the  most  agreeable  in  the  world,  except  to  those  who  lived 
there,  and  they,  I  do  suppose,  snuff  up  the  breeze  as  if  it  was 
loaded  with  wealth,  and  smelt  of  the  Gold  coast.  But  this  was 
nothing  (although  I  don't  think  I  can  ever  eat  dum  fish  again  as 
Ling  as  I  live)  to  the  effluvia  arising  from  decomposed  heaps  of  sea 
weed,  which  had  been  gathered  for  manure,  and  was  in  the  act  of 
removal  to  the  fields.  No  words  can  describe  this,  and  I  leave  it  to 
you/  imagination,  Squire,  to  form  an  idea  of  a  new  perfume  in 
mistiness  that  has  never  yet  been  appreciated  but  by  an  Irishman.  x 

I  heard  a  Paddy  once,  at  Halifax,  describe  the  wreck  of  a  car- 
riage which  had  been  dashed  to  pieces.  He  said  there  was  not  ';  a 
smell  of  it  left."  Poor  fellow,  he  must  have  landed  at  Chesencook, 
and  removed  one  of  those  oloriferous  heaps,  as  Sorrow  called  them, 
and  borrowed  the  metaphors  from  it,  that  there  was  not  ''a  smell 
of  it  left."  On  the  beach  between  the  '•  flakes"  and  the  water,  were 
smaller  heaps  of  the  garbage  of  the  cod-fish  and  mackerel,  on  which 
the  grey  and  white  gulls  fought,  screamed,  and  gorged  themselves, 
while  on  the  bar  were  the  remains  of  several  enormous  black  fish, 
half  the  size  of  whales,  which  had  been  driven  on  shore,  and  hauled 
up  out  of  the  reach  of  the  waves  by  strong  ox  teams.  The  heads 
and  livers  of  these  huge  monsters  had  been  •'  tried  out  in  the  Sperm 
court"  for  ile,  and  the  putrid  remains  of  the  carcass  were  disputed 
for  by  pigs  and  crows.  The  discordant  noises  of  these  hungry 
birds  and  beasts  were  perfectly  deafening. 

On  the  right  hand  side  of  the  harbor,  boys  and  girls  waded  out 
on  the  flats  to*  dig  clams,  and  were  assailed  on  all  sides  by  the 
screams  of  wild  fowl,  who  resented  the  invasion  of  their  territory, 
and  were  replied  to  in  tones  no  less  shrill  and  unintelligible.  O'i 
the  le.ft  was  the  wreck  of  a  large  ship,  which  had  perished  on  th* 
*, 


THE     WOKLD     BEFOEE     THE     FLOOD.  221 

coast,  and  left  its  ribs  and  skeleton  to  bleach  on  the  shore,  as  if  it 
had  failed  in  the  vain  attempt  to  reach  the  forest  from  which  it  had 
sprung,  and  to  repose  in  death  i-i  its  native  valley.  From  one  of 
its  masts,  a  long,  loose,  solitary  shroud  was  pendant,  having  at  its 
end  a  large  double  block  attached  to  it,  on  which  a  boy  was  seated, 
and  swung  backward  and  forward.  He  was  a  little,  saucv  urchin 
of  about  twelve  years  of  age,  dressed  in  striped  homespun,  and 
had  on  his  head  a  red  yarn  clackmutch,  that  resembled  a  cap  of 
liberty.  He  seemed  quite  happy,  and  sung  a  verse  of  a  French 
song  with  an  air  of  conscious  pride  and  defiance  as  his  mother,  stick 
in  hand,  stood  before  him,  and  at  the  top  of  her  voice  now  threat- 
ened him  with  the  rod,  his  father,  and  the  priest — and  then  treach- 
erously coaxed  him  with  a  promise  to  take  him  to  Halifax,  where 
he  should  see  the  great  chapel,  hear  the  big  bell,  and  look  at  the 
bishop.  A  group  of  little  girls  stared  in  amazement  at  his  courage, 
but  trembled  when  they  heard  his  mother  predict  a  broken  neck — 
purgatory — and  the  devil  as  his  portion. 

The  dog  was  as  excited  as  the  boy — he  didn't  bark,  but  he  whim- 
pered, as  he  gazed  upon  him,  as  if  he  would  like  to  jump  up,  and 
be  with  him,  or  to  assure  him  he  would  catch  him  if  he  fell,  if  he 
had  but  the  power  to  do  so. 

What  a  picture  it  was — the  huge  wreck  of  that,  that  once 
"walked  the  waters  as  a  thing  of  life" — the  merry  boy — the  anx- 
iuus  mother — the  trembling  sisters — the  affectionate  dog — what  bits 
of  church-yard  scenes  were  here  combined — children  playing  on 
the  tombs — the  young  and  the  old — the  merry  and  the  aching  heart 
—  the  living  among  the  dead.  Far  beyond  this  were  tall  figures 
wading  in  the  water,  and  seeking  their  food  in  the  shallows  ;  cranes 
who  leit  the  impunity  that  the  superstition  of  the  simple  tmbitaii.i 
had  extended  to  them  and  sought  their  daily  meal  in  peace. 

Al)ove  the  beach,  and  parallel  with  it,  ran  a  main  road,  on  the 
upper  side  of  wh'a-h  were  the  houses,  and  on  a  swelling  mound 
behind  them  rose  the  spire  of  the  chapel,  visible  far  otf  in  the 
Atlantic,  a  sacred  signal-post  for  the  guidance  of  the  poor  coaster. 
As  soon  as  you  reach  this  street  or  road,  and  look  around  you,  you 
feel  at  once  you  are  in  a  foreign  country,  and  a  land  of  strangers. 
The  people,  their  dress,  and  their  language,  the  houses,  their  form 
and  appearance,  the  implements  of  husbandry,  their  shape  and  con- 
struction— all  that  you  hear  and  see  js  unlike  anything  else.  It  is 
neither  above,  bevond.  or  behind  the  age.  It  is  the  world  before 
the  flood.  I  have  sketched  it  for  you.  and  I  think  without  bragging 
I  may  say  1  can  take  things  off  to  the  life.  Once  I  d rawed  a  mut- 
.ton  chop  so  nateral,  my  d«>g  broke  his  teeth  in  tearing  tho  panel  to 
pieces  to  get  at  it,  and  at  another  time  I  painted  a  shingle  so  like 
'•.lone,  when  I  threw  it  into  the  water  it  sunk  right  kcrla.^h  to  the 
bottom." 


222  THE     WOULD     B  K  FORE     THE    FLOOD. 

"Oh,  Mr  Slick,"  said  the  Doctor,  "let  me  get  away  from  hero 
I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  the  sea-coast,  and  above  ail  this  offensive 
place.  Let  us  get  into  the  woods,  where  we  can  enjoy  ourselves. 
You  have  never  witnessed  what  1  Ivive  lately,  and  1  trust  in  God 
you  never  will.  I  have  scon  within  tliis  month  two  hundred  dead 
bodies  on  a  beach,  in  every  possible  ^hape  of  disfiguration  and 
decomposition  — mangled,  mutilated,  and  dismembered  corpses; 
male  and  female,  old  and  young,  the  prey  of  fishes,  birds,  beasts, 
and  what  is  worse,  of  human  beings.  The  wrecker  had  been  there 
— whether  he  was  of  your  country  or  mine  I  know  not,  but  I  fer- 
vently hope  he  belonged  to  neither.  Oh,  1  have  never  slept  sound 
since.  The  -creams  of  the  birds  terrify  me.  and  yet  what  do  they 
do  but  follow  the  instincts  of  their  nature  ?  They  batten  on  the 
dead,  .and  if  thev  do  feed  on  the  living.  God  has  given  them  anima- 
ted beings  for  thi-ir  sustenance,  as  he  has  the  fowls  of  the  air,  the 
fishes  of  the  sea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field  to  us,  but  they  feed 
not  on  each  other.  Man,  man  alone  is  a  cannibal.  What  an  awful 
word  that  is.1' 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I,  "  for  he  is  then  below  the  canine  species — dog 
won't  eat  dog.*  The  wrecker  lives  not  on  those  who  die,  but  on 
those  whom  he  slays.  The  pirate  has  courage  at  least  to  boast  of ; 
he  risks  his  life  to  rob  the  ship,  but  the  other  attacks  the  helpless 
and  unarmed,  and  spares  neither  age  nor  sex,  in  his  thirst,  for 
plunder.  1  don't  mean  to  say  we  are  worse  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic  than  the  other.  God  forbid.  I  believe  we  are  better ; 
for  the  American  people  are  a  kind,  a  feeling  and  a  humane  race. 
But  avarice  hardens  the  heart,  and  distress  when  it  comes  in  a 
mass,  overpowers  pity  for  the  individual,  while  the  inability  to  aid 
a  multitude,  induces  a  carelessness  to  assist  any.  A  whole  com- 
munity will  rush  to  the  rescue  of  a  drowning  man,  not  because  his 
purse  can  enrich  them  all,  that  is  too  dark  a  view  of  human  nature, 
but  because  he  is  the  sole  object  of  interest.  When  there  are  hun- 
dreds struggling  for  life,  few  of  whom  can  be  saved,  and  when 
some  wretches  are  solely  bent  on  booty,  the  rest  regardless  of 
duny,  rush  in  for  their  share  also,  and  the  ship  and  her  cargo 
attract  all.  When  the  wreck  is  plundered,  the  transition  to  rifling 
the  dying  and  the  dead  is  not  difficult;  and  cupidity,  when  once 
sharpened  by  success,  brooks  no  resistance,  for  the  remonstrance  of 
conscience  is  easily  silenced  where  supplication  is  not  even  heard. 
Avarice  benumbs  the  feelings,  and  when  the  heart  is  hardened,  man 
becomes  a  mere  beast  of  prey.  Oh,  this  scene  affects  me — let  us 
move  on.  These  poor  people  have  never  yet  been  suspected  of 
these  atrocities,  and  surely  they  were  not  perpetrated  in  the  worid 
before  the  flood." 

*  Ttb«  homely  adage  is  far  more  expressive  than  the  Latin  one . 

"  Parcit 

mac'ulis.  slmi'i*  fe;a  "— Jov 


LOST     AT     SEA.  223 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
LOST  AT   SEA. 

M  I  BELIEVE,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  we  have  seen  all  that  is  worth  no- 
tice here  ;  let  us  go  into  one  of  their  houses,  and  ascertain  if  there 
is  anything  for  Sorrow's  larder  ;  but,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  u  let  us  first 
find  out  if  they  speak  English,  for  if  they  do,  we  must  be  careful 
what  we  say  before  them.  Very  few  of  the  old  people,  I  guess, 
know  anything  but  French;  but  the  younger  ones,  who  frequent 
the  Halifax  market,  know  more  than  they  pretend  to  if  they  are 
like  some  other  habitants  1  saw  at  New  Orleans.  They  are  as  cun- 
ning as  foxes." 

Proceeding  to  one  of  the  largest  cottages,  we  immediately 
gained  admission.  The  door,  unlike  those  of  Nova  Scotian  houses, 
opened  outwards,  the  fastenings  being  a  simple  wooden  latch. 
The  room  into  which  we  entered  was  a  large,  dark,  dingy,  dirty 
apartmeut.  In  the  centre  of  it  was  a  tub  containing  some  goslins, 
resembling  yellow  balls  of  cornmeal.  rather  than  birds.  Two 
females  were  all  that  were  at  home  ;  one  an  old  wrinkled  woman, 
whose  age  it  would  puzzle  a  physiognomist  to  pronounce  on,  the 
other  a  girl  about  twenty-five  years  old.  They  sat  on  opposite 
sides  of  the  fire-place,  and  both  were  clothed  alike,  in  blue-striped 
homespun,  as  previously  described. 

"  Look  at  their  moccasins,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  They  know 
much  more  about  deer-skins  than  half  the  English  settlers  do. 
Do  you  observe  they  are  made  of  carriboo,  and  not  moose  hide  ? 
The  former  contracts  with  wet,  and  the  other  distends  and  gets  out 
of  shape.  Simple  as  that  little  thing  is,  few  people  have  ever  no- 
ticed it  " 

The  girl,  had  she  been  differently  trained  and  dressed,  would 
luue  been  handsome;  but  spare  diet,  exposure  to  the  sun  and 
wind,  ?nd  field-labor  had  bronzed  her  face,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to 
•say  what  her  real  complexion  was.  Her  hair  was  jet-black  and 
very  luxuriant ;  but  the  handkerchief  which  served  for  bonnet  and 
head-dress  by  day,  and  for  a  cap  by  night,  hid  all  but  the  ample 
folds  in  front.  Her  teeth  were  as  white  as  ivory,  and  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  gipsy  color  of  her  cheeks.  The  eyes  were 
black  soft,  and  liquid,  and  the  lashes  remarkably  long ;  but  the 
expression  of  the  face  which  was  naturally  good,  indicated,  though 
jot  v •  >ry  accurately,  the  absence  of  either  thought  or  curiosity. 

A'1  er  a  while  objects  became  more  distinct  in  the  room,  as  we  grad- 
ual1' became  accustomed  to  the  dim  light  of  the  small  windows. 
Th*.  ?alls  were  hung  round  with  large  hanks  "f  yarn,  principally 


£9-4  LOST     AT     SEA. 

blue  and  white.  An  open  cupboard  displayed  some  plain  coarse 
cups  and  saucers,  and  the  furniture  consisted  of  two  rough  tables, 
a  large  bunk,*  one  or  two  sea  chests,  and  a  few  chairs  of  simply 
workmanship;  a  large  old-fashioned  spinning-wheel,  and  a  barrel- 
churn  stood  in  one  corner,  and  in  the  other  a  shoemaker's  bench, 
while  carpenters'  tools  were  suspended  on  nails  in  such  places  as 
were  not  occupied  by  yarn.  There  was  no  ceiling  or  plastering 
visible  anywhere;  the  floor  of  the  attic  alone  separated  that  por 
tion  of  the  house  from  the  lower  room,  and  the  joist  on  which  iv 
was  laid,  was  thus  exposed  to  view,  and  supported  on  wooden 
cleats,  leather,  oars,  rudders,  together  with  some  half-dressed  pieces 
of  ash,  snow-shoes,  and  such  other  things  as  necessity  mighi 
require.  The  wood-work,  wherever  visible,  was  begrimed  with 
smoke,  and  the  floor,  though  doubtless  sometimes  swept,  appeared 
as  if  it  had  the  hydrophobia  hidden  in  its  cracks,  so  carefully  were 
soap  and  water  kept  from  it.  Hams  and  bacon  were  nowhere 
visible.  It  is  probable,  if  they  had  any,  they  were  kept  elsewhere; 
but  still  more  probable  that  they  had  found  their  way  to  market, 
and  been  transmuted  into  money,  for  these  people  are  remarkably 
frugal  and  abstemious,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt,  the  Doctor  says, 
that  there  is  not  a  house  in  the  settlement,  in  which  there  is  not  a 
supply  of  ready  money,  though  the  appearance  of  the  buildings 
and  their  inmates  would  by  no  means  justify  a  stranger  in  suppos- 
ing so.  They  are  neither  poor  nor  destitute,  but  far  better  off 
than  those  who  live  more  comfortably,  and  inhabit  better  houses. 

The  only  article  of  food  that  I  saw  was  a  barrel  of  eggs,  most 
probably  accumulated  for  the  Halifax  market,  and  a  few  small  fish 
on  rods,  undergoing  the  process  of  smoking  in  the  chimney  corner. 

The  old  woman  was  knitting  and  enjoying  her  pipe,  and  the  girl 
was  dressing  wool,  and  handling  a  pair  of  cards  with  a  rapidity  and 
ease  that  would  have  surprised  a  Lancashire  weaver.  The  moment 
she  rose  to  sweep  up  the  hearth  I  saw  she  was  an  heiress.  When 
an  Acadian  girl  has  but  her  outer  and  under  garment  on,  it  is  a 
clear  sign  if  she  marries,  there  will  be  a  heavy  demand  on  the 
fleeces  of  her  husband's  sheep;  but  if  she  wears  four  or  more  thick 
woollen  petticoats,  it  is  equally  certain  her  portion  of  worldly 
goods  is  not  very  small. 

•'  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "it  tante  every  darnin  needle  would  reach  her 
through  them  petticoats,  is  it  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  said  he,  "  Mr.  Slick — oh  !"  and  he  rose  as  usual,  stooped 
forward,  pressed  his  hands  on  his  ribs,  and  ran  round  the  room,  if 
not  at  the  imminent  risk  of  his  life,  certainly  to  the  great  danger 
of  the  spinning-wheel  and  the  goslings.  Both  the  females  -egarded 
him  with  great  surprise,  and  not  without  some  alarm. 

*  Bunk  is  a  word  in  common  use,  and  means  a  box  that  makes  a  seat  by 
day  and  serves  for  a  bedstead  by  night. 


LOST     AT     SEA.  225 

''  He  has  the  stomacn-ache,"  sais  I,  in  French,  "  he  is  su  bjeot  M 
it." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !"'  paid  he,  when  he  heard  that,  "  oh,  Mr.  Slick,  you 
will  be  the  death  of  me." 

"  Have  you  got  any  peppermint1?"  sais  I. 

"No,"  said  she,  talking  in  her  own  patois,  and  she  scrapod  a 
spoonful  of  soot  from  the  chimney,  and  putting  it  into  a  cup,  was 
about  pouring  hot  water  on  it  for  an  emetic,  when  he  could  stand 
it  no  longer,  but  rushing  out  of  the  door,  put  to  flight  a  flock 
geese  that  were  awaiting  their  usual  meal,  and  stumbling  over  a 
pig,  fell  at  full  length  on  the  ground,  nearly  crushing  to  death  the 
dog,  who  went  off  yeliing  as  if  another  such  blow  would  be  the 
tleafh  of  him,  and  hid  himself  under  the  barn.  The  idea  of  the 
soot  emetic  relieved  the  old  lady,  though  it  nearly  fixed  the  Doc- 
tor's fliut  for  him.  She  extolled  its  virtues  to  the  skies;  she  saved 
her  daughter's  life,  she  said,  with  it  once,  who  had  been  to  Halifax, 
and  was  taken  by  an  officer  into  a  pastrycook's  shop  and  treated. 
He  told  her  if  she  would  eat  as  much  as  she  could  at  once,  he 
would  pay  for  it  all. 

Well,  she  did  her  best.  She  eat  one  loaf  of  plumcake,  three 
trays  of  jellies,  a  whole  counter  of  little  tarts,  figs,  raisins,  an^ 
oranges  and  all  sorts  of  things  without  number.  Oh !  it  was  t 
grand  chance,  she  said,  and  the  way  she  eat  was  a  caution  to  a  ocr 
inorant ;  but  at  last  she  gave  out,  she  couldn't  do  no  more.  The 
foolish  officer,  the  old  lady  observed,  if  he  had  let  her  fetch  all  them 
things  home,  you  know  we  could  have  helped  her  to  eat  them,  and 
if  we  couldn't  have  eat  em  all  in  one  day,  surely  we  could  in  one 
week;  but  he  didn't  think  of  that,  I  suppose.  But  her  daughter 
liked  to  have  died  ;  too  much  of  a  good  thing  is  good  for  nothing. 
Well,  the  soot  emetic  cured  her,  and  then  she  t»ld  me  all  its 
effects ;  and  it's  very  surprising,  it  didn't  sound  bad  in  French,  but 
it  don't  do  to  write  it  in  English  at  all ;  it's  the  same  thing,  but  it 
tells  better  in  French.  It  must  be  a  very  nice  language  that  for  a 
doctor,  when  it  makes  emetics  sound  so  pretty  ;  you  might  hear  or 
em  while  you  was  at  dinner  and  not  disturb  you. 

You  may  depend  it  made  the  old  lady  wake  snakes  and  walk 
chalks  talking  of  physic.  She  told  me  if  a  man  was  dying  or  a 
child  was  born  in  all  that  settlement,  she  was  always  sent  for,  and 
related  to  me  some  capital  stories ;  but  somehow  no  English  or 
Yankee  woman  could  tell  them  to  a  man,  and  a  man  can't  tell 
them  in  English.  How  is  this  Squire,  do  you  know  ?  Ah!  here 
is  the  Doctor,  1  will  ask  him  by-and-by. 

Women,  I  believe,  are  born  with  certain  natural  tastes.      Sally 

was  death  on  lace,  and  old  Aunt  Thankful  goes  the  whole  figure  f»r 

furs;  either  on  em  could  teil    real   thread   or  genuine  sable  clear 

across  the  church.     Mother  was  born  v.ith  a  tktv  devil,  and  lia'l  an 

10* 


226  LOST     AT     SKA. 

eye  for  cobwebs  and  blue-bottle  flies.  She  waged  eternal  war  on 
em;  while  Phoebe  Hopewell  beat  all  natur  for  bigotry  and  virtua 
(bijouterie  and  vertu  )  But*"most  Yankee  women  when  they  grow 
old,  specially  if  they  are  spinsters,  are  grand  at  componndin  medi- 
cines and  presarves.  They  begin  by  nursen  babies  and  end  by 
nursen  up  broughten-up  foil's.  Old  Mother  Boudrot  now  was 
great  on  simples,  most  of  which  were  as  simple  and  as  harmless  as 
herself.  Some  of  them  was  new  to  me,  though  I  think  1  know  bet- 
ter ones  than  she  has  ;  but  what  made  her  onfallible  was,  she  had 
faith;  she  took  a  key  out  of  her  pocket,  big  enough  fur  a  jail-door, 
and  unlocking  a  huge  sailor's  chest,  selected  a  box  made  by  the 
Indians,  of  birch  bark,  worked  with  porcupine  quills,  which  enclosed 
another  a  size  smaller,  and  that  a  littler  one  that  would  just  fit  into 
it,  and  so  on  until  she  came  to  one  about  the  size  of  an  old-fashioned 
coffee-cup.  Tuey  are  called  a  nest  of  boxes.  The  inner  one  con- 
tained a  little  horn  thing  that  looked  like  a  pill-box,  and  that  had  a 
charm  in  it. 

It  was  a  portion  of  the  nail  of  St.  Francis's  big  toe,  which  never 
failed  to  work  a  cure  on  them  who  believed  in  it.  She  said  she 
bought  it  from  a  French  prisoner,  who  had  deserted  from  Melville 
Island,  at  Halifax,  during  the  last  war.  She  gave  him  a  suit  or 
clothes,  two  shirts,  six  pair  of  stockings,  and  eight  dollars  for  it. 
The  box  was  only  a  bit  of  bone,  and  not  worthy  of  the  sacred  relic, 
but  she  couldn't  afford  to  get  a  gold  one  for  it. 

"Poor  St.  Croix,''  she  said,  •'  I  shall  never  see  him  again.  He 
had  great  laming;  he  could  both  read  and  write.  "When  he  sold 
me  that  holy  thing,  he  said : 

"Madam,  I  am  afraid  something  dreadful  will  happen  tome 
before  long,  for  selling  that  relic.  When  danger  and  trouble  come, 
where  will  be  my  charm,  then  ?'' 

"  Well,  sure  enough,  two  nights  after  it  was  a  very  dark  night, 
the  dogs  barked  dreadful,  and  in  the  morning  Peter  La  Roue,  when 
he  got  up,  saw  his  father's  head  on  the  gate-post,  grinnm'  at  him, 
and  his  daughter  Annie's  handkerchief  tied  over  his  crown  and 
down  under  his  chin.  And  St.  Croix  was  gone,  and  Annie  was  in 
a  trance,  and  the  priest's  desk  was  gone,  with  two  hundred  pounds 
of  money  in  it,  and  old  Jodries  ram  had  a  saddle  and  bridle  on, 
and  was  tied  to  the  gate  of  the  widow  of  Justine  Kobisheau,  that 
was  drowned  in  a  well  at  Halifax,  and  Simon  Como's  boat  put  off 
to  sea  itself,  and  was  no  more  heard  of.  Oh,  it  was  a  terrible 
night,  and  poor  St.  Croix,  people  felt  very  sorry  for  him,  and  for 
Annie  La  Roue,  who  slept  two  whole  days  and  nights  before  she 
woke  up.  She  had  all  her  father's  money  in  her  room  that  night; 
but  they  searched  day  after  day,  and  never  found  it." 

Well,  i  didn't  undeceive  her.  What's  the  use?  Master  St. 
Croix  was  an  old  privateers-man.  He  had  drugged  La  Roue's 


LOST     AT     SEA.  227 

daughter  lo  rob  her  ot  her  money  ;  had  stolen  two  hundred  pounds 
from  the  priest,  and  Como's  boat,  and  .sold  the  old  lady  a  piece  of 
his  toe-nail  for  eight  or  ten  pounds'  worth  in  all.  I  never  shake 
the  faith  of  an  ignorant  person.  Suppose  they  do  believe  too 
much,  it  is  safer  than  believirg  too  little.  You  may  make  them 
give  up  their  creed,  but  they  ain't  always  quite  so  willing  to  take 
your's.  It  is  easier  to  make  an  infidel  than  a  convert.  So  I  just 
let  folks  be,  and  suffer  *hem  to  skin  their x>wn  eels. 

After  that,  she  took  to  paying  me  compliments  on  my  French, 
and  1  co  m  pi  i  men  ted  her  on  her  good  looks,  and  she  confessed  she 
was  very  handeome  when  she  was  young,  and  all  the  men  were  in 
love  with  her  and  so  on.  Well,  when  1  was  ubmit  startin',  I 
inquired  wlifct  she  had  to  sell  in  the  eatin'  line. 

*'  Eggs  r.nd  hams,''  she  said,  "  were  all  she  had  in  the  house." 

On  examining  the  barrel  containing  the  former,  1  found  a  white- 
*ookin',  tasteless  powder  among  them. 

"  What's  that,"  said  I. 

Well,  she  told  me  what  it  was  (pulverised  gypsum),  and  said, 
*  it  would  keep  them  sweet  and  fresh  for  six  months,  at  least,  and 
*l«e  didn't  know  but  a  year." 

So  I  put  my  hand  away  down  into  the  barrel  and  pulled  out 
wo,  and  that  layer  she  said  was  three  months'  old.  1  held  them 
UJ  the  light,  and  they  were  as  clear  as  if  laid  yesterday. 

"  Boil  them,"  sais  I,  at.d  she  did  so;  and  1  must  say  it  was  a 
wrinkle  I  didn't  expect  to  pick  up  at  such  a  place  as  that,  for 
nothing  could  be  fresher. 

44  Here  is  a  dollar,"  said  I,  "  for  that  receipt,  for  it's  worth 
knowing,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Now,"  thinks  I,  as  I  took  my  seat  again,  "  I  will  try  and  see 
if  this  French  gall  can  talk  English."  I  asked  her,  but  she  shook 
her  head. 

Sais  I,  "  Doctor,  ain't  she  a  beauty,  that  ?  See  what  lovely 
eyes  she  has  and  magnificent  hair  !  Oh,  if  she  was  well  got  up, 
and  fashionably  dressed,  wouldn't  she  be  a  sneezer  ?  What 
beautiful  little  hands  and  feet  she  has!  I  wonder  if  she  would 
marry,  seein'  I  am  an  orthodox  man." 

Well,  she  never  moved  a  muscle  ;  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on 
her  work,  and  there  wasn't  the  leastest  rnite  of  a  smile  on  her  face. 
1  thought  her  head  was  rather  more  stationary,  if  anything,  as  if 
she  was  listening,  and  her  eyes  more  fixed  as  if  she  was  all 
attention;  for  she  had  dropped  a  stitch  in  her  knitting;  and  was 
a  taking  of  it  up,  so  perhaps  I  might  be  mistaken.  Thinks  I,  will 
try  you  on  t'other  tack. 

"  Doctor,  how  would  you  like  to  kiss  her,  eh  ?  Ripe-looking 
lips  them,  ain't  they  ?  Well,  I  wouldn't  kiss  her  for  the  world," 
I ;  "I  would  just  as  soon  think  of  kissing  a  ham  lhat  is 


•223  LOST     AT     SKA. 

covered  with  creosote.  There  is  so  much  ile  and  sn.oke.  on  'em,  I 
should  have  the  taste  in  my  mouth  for  a  week.  Phew  !  I  think  I 
taste  it  now  !" 

She  colored  a  little  at  that  and  pretty  eoon  got  up,  and  went  out 
of  the  room  ;  and  presently  I  heard  her  washing  her  hands  and 
face. 

Thinks  I,  "You  sly  fox!  you  know  English  well  enough  to 
kiss  in  it,  if  you  can't  talk  in  it  easy.  I  thought  I'de  find  you  out ; 
fora  gall  that  won't  laugh  when  you  tickle  her,  can't  help  screamin' 
a  little  when  you  pinch  her  ;  that's  a  fact."  She  returned  in  a  few 
minutes,  quite  a  different  lookin'  person,  and  resumed  her  usual 
employ  ment,t.but  still  persisted  that  she  did  not  know  English. 
In  the  midst  of  our  conversation,  the  master  of  the  house,  lerome 
Boudrot  came  in.  Like  most  of  the  natives  of  Chescncook,  he  was 
short  in  stature,  but  very  active,  and  like  all  the  rest,  a  great 
talker. 

"  Ah,  gentleman,"  he  said,  "you  follows  de  sea,  eh  !" 

"  No,"  sais  I,  "  the  sea  often  follows  us,  especially  when  the  wind 
is  fair." 

"  True,  true,"  he  said  ;  "  I  forget  dat.  It  followed  me  one  time. 
Oh,  1  was  onst  lost  at  sea ;  and  it's  an  awful  feel  in'.  I  was  out  of 
sight  of  land  one  whole  day,  all  night,  and  little  piece  of  next  day. 
(),  we  .was  proper  frightened.  It  was  ail  sea  and  sky,  and  big 
wave,  and  no  land,  and  none  of  us  knew  our  way  back."  And  he 
opened  his  eyes  as  if  the  very  recollection  of  his  danger  alarmed 
him.  "At  last  big  ship  came  by,  and  1  hailed  her,  and  ask  : 

"  '  My  name  is  Jerry  Boudrot ;   where  am  1  ?' 

"'Aboard  of  your  own  vessel,'  said  they;  and  they  laughed 
like  anything,  and  left  us. 

"  Well,  towards  night  we  were  overtaken  by  Yankee  vessel,  and 
a  say,  '  My  name  is  Jerry  Boudrot ;  where  am  1  V 

"'  Thar]  said  the  sarcy  Yankee  captain,  'and  if  you  get  this 
far,  you  will  be  here  ?  and  they  laughed  at  me,  and  1  swore  at 
them,  and  called  'em  all  manner  of  ivirnes. 

"  Well,  then,  we  was  proper  frightened,  and  I  gave  myself  up 
for  lost,  and  1  was  so  sorry  1  hadn't  put  my  deed  of  my  land  on 
reccr,  and  that  1  never  got  pay  for  half  a  cord  of  wood  I  sold  a 
woman,  who  nevare  return  agin,  last  time  I  was  to  Halifax  ;  and 
Esadore  Terrio  owe  me  two  shillings!  and  six  pence,  and  1  got  no 
note  of  hand  for  it,  and  1  lend  my  ox-cart  for  one  dav  to  MarU-11 
Baban,  and  he  will  keep  it  for  a  week,  and  wear  it  out,  and  my 
wife  marry  again  as  sure  as  de  world.  Oh,  1  was  very  scare  ana 
propare  sorr\ ,  you  may  depend,  when  presently  great  big  English 
ship  come  by,  and  1  hail  her. 

'"My  name  is  Jerrv  Boud'ot,'  sais  I,  'when  did  you  see 
land  last  V 


LOST     AT     SKA.  229 

*• l  Thirty  days  ago,'  said  the  captain. 

'"Whore  am  IT  sais  I. 

" '  In  44°  40'  north,'  said  he,  '  and  63°  40'  west,  as  near  as  1 
could  hear  him. 

" '  And  what  country  is  dat  are  T  said  I.  '  My  name  is  J  erry 
Boudrot1 

"  '  Where  are  you  bound  ?'  said  he. 

"  '  Home,'  said  I.* 

"  '  Well,  said  he,  'at  this  season  of  the  year  you  shall  make  de 
run  in  twenty-five  days.  A  pleasant  passage  to  you !'  and  away 
he  went. 

"  Oh,  I  was  plague  scared  ;  for  it  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  lost 
at  sea. 

"'Twenty-five  days,'  said  I,  'afore  we  get  home.  Oh,  mon 
Dieu  !  oh  dear!  we  shall  all  starve  to  death  ;  and  what  is  worse, 
die  first.  What  provisions  have  we,  boys?' 

" '  Well,'  sais  they,  '  we  counted,  and  we  had  two  figs  of 
tobocco,  and  six  loaf  baker's  bread  (for  the  priest,)  two  feet  of 
wood,  three  matches,  and  five  gallons  of  water,  and  one  pipe  among 
us  all.'  Three  matches  and  five  gallons  of  water!  Oh,  I  was  so 
sorry  to  lose  my  life,  and  what  was  wus,  I  had  my  best  clothes 
on  bord. 

"  *  Oh,  boys,  we  are  out  of  sight  of  land  now,'  sais  I,  '  and  what 
is  wns,  may  be  we  go  so  far  we  get  out  sight  of  de  sun  too,  where 
is  dark  like  down  cellar.  Oh,  it's  a  shocking  ting  to  be  lost  at  sea. 
Oh,  people  lose  deir  way  dere  so  bad,  sometimes  dey  nevare 
return  no  more.  People  that's  lost  in  de  wood  dey  come  back  if 
dey  live,  but  them  that's  lost  at  sea  nevare.  Oh,  I  was  damn 
scared.  Oh,  mon  Dieu  !  what  is  44°  40'  north  and  63°  40'  west? 
Is  daC  de  country  were  people  who  are  lost  at  sea  go  to  ?  Boys,  is 
there  any  rum  on  board,  and  they  said  there  was  a  bottle  fur  the 
old  ladies  rhumatis.  Well,  hand  it  up,  and  if  ever  you  get  back 
tell  her  it  was  lost  at  sea,  and  has  gone  44°  40'  north  and  03°  40' 
»vest.  Oh,  dear,  dis  all  comes  from  going  out  of  sight  of  land.' 

"  Oh,  I  was  very  dry,  you  may  depend.  I  was  so  scared,  at 
being  lost  at  sea  that  way,  my  lips  stuck  together  like- the  sole  and 
upper-leather  of  a  shoe.  And  when  I  took  down  the  bottle  to 
draw  breath,  the  boys  took  it  away,  as  it  was  all  I  had.  Oh,  it 
set  my  mouth  afire,  it  was  made  to  warm  outside  and  not  inside. 
Dere  was  brimstone,  and  camphor,  and  eetle  red  pepper,  and  tur 
pentene  in  it.  Vary  hot,  vary  nasty,  and  vary  trong,  and  it  made 
me  sea-sick,  and  I  gave  up  rny  dinner,  for  J  could  not  hole  him  no 
longer,  he  jump  so  in  de  stomach,  and  what  was  wuss,  I  had  so  lit- 
tle tor  aroder  meal.  Fust  I  lose  my  way,  den  I  lose  my  sense, 

*  All  colonists  call  England  "  home  ** 


230  LOST     AT     SEA. 

den  1  lose  my  dinner,  and  what  is  wuss  I  lose  myself  to  sea.  Oh. 
I  repent  vary  much  of  my  sin,  in  going  out  of  sight  of  land.  Well, 
1  lights  my  pipe  and  walks  up  and  down,  and  presently  the  sun 
comes  out  quite  bright. 

'• '  Well,  dat  sun,'  sais  I,  '  boys,  sets  every  "night  behind  my 
barn  in  the  big  swamp,  somewhere  about  the  Hemlock  Grove. 
Well  dat  is  63°  40'  west,  I  suppose.  And  it  rises  a  few  miles  to 
the  eastward  of  that  ba  n,  sometimes  out  of  a  fog  bank,  or  some- 
times  out  o'  the  water;  well  that  is  44°  40'  north,  which  is  all  but 
east,  I  suppose.  Now,  if  we  steer  west  we  will  see  our  barn,  but 
steering  east  is  being  lost  at  sea,  for  in  time  you  would  be  behind 
de  sun.' 

"  Well,  we  didn't  sleep  much  dat  night  you  may  depend,  but  we 
prayed  a  great  deal,  and  we  talked  a  great  deal,  and  I  was  so  cus- 
sed scared  I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Well,  morning  came  and 
still  no  land,  and  I  began  to  get  diablement  feared  again.  Every 
two  or  tree  minutes  I  run  up  de  riggin,  and  look  out,  but  couldn't 
see  nothin.  At  last  1  went  down  to  my  trunk,  for  I  had  a  bottle 
there  for  my  rheumatics  too,  only  no  nasty  stuff  in  it,  that  the 
boys  didn't  know  of,  and  I  took  very  long  draught,  I  was  so 
scared  ;  and  then  I  went  on  deck  up  de  riggin  again. 

"'Boys,' sais  I,  'there's  the  barn  that's  03°  40'  west.  I  told 
you  so.'  Well,  when  I  came  down  I  went  on  my  knees,  and  I 
vowed  as  long  as  I  lived  I  would  hug  as  tight  and  close — " 

"  Hug  your  wife,"  sais  I. 

"Pooh  no,"  said  he,  turning  round  contemptuously  towards  her, 
"  hug  her,  eh !  why,  she  has  got  the  rheumatiz,  and  her  tongue  is 
in  mourning  for  her  teeth.  No,  hug  the  shore,  man,  hug  it  as  close 
as  possible,  and  never  lose  sight  of  land  for  fear  of  being  lost  at 
sea." 

The  old  woman,  perceiving  that  Jerry  had  been  making  some 
]oke  at  her  expense,  asked  the  girl  the  meaning  of  it,  when  she 
rose,  and  seizing  his  cap  and  boxing  his  ears  with  it,  right  and  left, 
asked  what  he  meant  by  wearing  it  before  gentlemen,  and  then 
poured  out  a  torrent  of  abuse  on  him,  with  such  volubility  I  was 
unable  to  follow  it. 

Jerry  sneaked  off,  and  set  in  the  corner  near  his  daughter,  afraid 
to  speak,  and  the  old  woman  took  her  chair  again,  unable  to  do  so. 
There  was  a  truce  and  a  calm ;  so  to  change  the  conversation, 
sais  I : 

"Sorrow,  take  the  rifle,  and  go  and  see  if  there  is  a  Jesuit  priest 
about  here,  and  if  there  is,  shoot  him,  and  take  him  on  board  and 
cook  him." 

"Oh,  Massa  Sam,"  said  he,  and  he  opened  his  eyes  and  goggled 
like  an  owl  awfully  frightened.  "  Goody  gracious  me,  now  you  is 
joking,  isn't  you  ?  I  is  sure  you  is.  You  wouldn't  now,  massa, 


LOST     AT     SKA.  231 

you  wouldn't  make  dis  child  do  murder,  would  you?  Oh,  massa. 
kill  de  poor  priest  who  nebber  did  no  harm  in  all  his  born  days, 
and  him  had  no  wile  and  child  to  follow  him  to — " 

"  The  pot,"  sais  I,  u  oh  yes,  if  they  ask  me  arter  him,  I  will  say 
he  is  gone  to  pot." 

"  Oh,  massa,  now  you  is  funnin',  ain't  you  ?"  and  he  tried  to 
force  a  laugh.  "  How  in  de  world  under  de  canopy  ob  hebbin 
must  de  priest  be  cooked  ?" 

"  Cut  his  head  and  feet  off,"  sais  I,  "  break  his  thighs  short,  close 
up  to  the  stumps,  bend  'ern  up  his  side,  ra.n  him  into  the  pot,  and 
stew  him  with  ham  and  vegetables.  Lick  !  a  Jesuit  priest  is  deli 
eiou<,  done  that  way." 

The  girl  dropped  her  cards  on  her  knees  and  looked  at  me  with 
intense  anxiety.  She  seemed  quite  handsome,  I  do  actilly  believe 
if  she  was  put  in  a  tub  and  washed,  laid  out  on  the  grass  a  few 
nights  with  •  her  face  up  to  bleach  it,  her  great  yarn  petticoats 
hauled  off  and  proper  ones  put  on,  and  her  head  and  feet  dressed 
right,  she'd  beat  the  Blue-nose  galls  for  beauty  out  and  out ;  but 
that  is  neither  here  nor  tiere,  those  that  want  white  faces  must 
wash  them,  and^  those  that  want  white  floors  must  scrub  them ;  it's 
enough  for  me  that  they  are  white,  without  my  making  them  so. 
Well,  she  looked  all  eyes  and  ears.  Jerry's  under-jaw  dropped. 
Cutler  was  flabbergasted,  and  the  Doctor  looked  as  if  he  thought : 
'•Well,  what  are  you  at  now?"  while  the  old  woman  appeared 
anxious  enough  to  give  her  whole  barrel  of  eggs  to  know  what  was 
going  on. 

"  Oh,  massa,"  said  Sorrow,  "  dis  here  child  can't  have  no  hand 
in  it.  De  priest  will  pyson  you  to  a  dead  sartainty.  If  he  was 
baked  he  mout  do.  In  Africa  dey  is  hannibals  and  eat  dere  prison- 
ers, but  den  dey  bake  or  roast  'em  ;  but  stew  him,  massa !  by 
golly  he  will  pyson  you  as  sure  as  'postles.  My  dear  ole  misses 
died  from  only  eaten  hogs  wid  dere  heads  on." 

"  Hogs,"  said  I. 

"  Yes,  massa,  in  course,  hogs  wid  dere  heads  on.  Ah,  she  was 
a  most  a  beautiful  cook,  but  she  was  feazled  out  by  bad  cookery 
at  de  last." 

"  You  black  villain,"  said  I,  "  do  you  mean  to  say  your  mis- 
tress ever  eat  whole  hogs  ?" 

"Yes,  ma^sa,  in  course  I  do,  but  it  was  abbin  dere  heads  on 
fixed  her  flint  for  her." 

"  What  an  awful  liar  you  are,  Sorr'.w." 

41  'Pon  my  sacred  word  and  honor,  massa."  he  said,  "  I  stake  my 
testament  oat  or,  it ;  does  you  link  dis  here  child  now  would  swear 
to  a  lie  ?  tr-ue  as  preaehin." 

"Go  on,"  said  I,   "  I  like  to  see  a  fellow  'go  the  whole  hog, 
while  he  is  about  it.     How  many  did  it  take  to  kill  her  ?" 


LOST     AT     SKA 

"  Well,  massa,  she  told  me  herself,  on  her  def  bed.  she  didn't 
eat  no  more  nor  ten  or  a  dozen  ho<£S,  but  she  didn't  blame  dem,  it 
was  having  dere  head*  on  did  all  the  mischief.  I  was  away  when 
dey  was  cooked,  or  it  wouldn't  a  happened.  I  was  down  to 
Charleston  Bank  to  draw  six  hundred  dollars  for  her,  and  when  I 
came  back  she  sent  for  me.  '  Sorrow,'  sais  she,  '  Plutarch  has 
poisoned  me.' 

"  '  Oh,  de  black  villain,'  sais  I,  '  missus,  I  will  tye  him  to  a  tree 
and  burn  him.' 

"  '  No,  no,'  she  said,  '  I  will  return  good  for  ebil.  Send  for  Rev. 
Mr.  Hominy,  and  Mr.  Sucratash,  de  Yankee  oberseer.  and  te.l 
my  poor  granny  Chloe  her  ole  misses  is  dyin',  and  to  come  back, 
hot  foot,  and  bring  Plutarch,  for  my  disgestion  is  all  gone.'  Well, 
when  Plutarch  came  she  said,  '  Plue,  my  child,  you  have  killed 
your  misses  by  cooking  de  hogs  wid  dere  heads  on,  but  I  won't 
punish  you,  I  is  intendin'  to  extinguish  you  by  kindness  among  de 
plantation  niggers.  I  will  heap  coals  of  fire  on  your  head.' 

"  '  Dat's  right,  missus,'  sais  I,  'burn  de  villain  up,  but  burn  him 
with  green  wood  so  as  to  make  slow  fire,  dat's  right,  dat's  dc.  ticket 
missus,  it  served  him  right.' 

"Oh,  if  you  eber  heard  yellin'  massa,  you'd  a  heard  it  den,  Plue 
he  trowed  himself  down  on  de  ground  and  he  rolled  and  he  kicked 
and  he  screamed  like  mad. 

u  '  Don't  make  a  noise,  Plutarch,'  said  she,  '  I  can't  stand  it.  I 
ain't  agoin'  to  put  you  to  def.  You  shall  lib.  I  will  gib  you  a 
wife.' 

"  '  Oh,  tankee  misses,'  said  he,  '  oh.  I  will  pray  for  you  night  and 
day,  when  ]  ain't  awake  or  asleep,  for  eber  and  eber.' 

" '  You  shall  ab  Cloe  for  a  wife.' 

"  Cloe,  massa,  was  seventy-five,  if  she  was  one  blessed  second 
old.  She  was  crippled  up  with  rheumatis,  and  walked  on  crutches, 
and  hadn't  a  tooth  in  her  head,  she  was  just  doubled  up  like  a  tall 
nigger  on  a  short  bed. 

'"'Oh,  Lord,  missus,'  said  Plutarch,  '  hab  mercy  on  dis  sinner, 
oh  dear  missus,  oh  Inbly  missus,  oh  hab  mercy  on  dis  child.' 

"  '  Tankee,  missus,'  said  Cloe-  '  God  bless  you,  missus,  I  is  quite 
appy  now.  1  is  a  leetle  too  young  for  dat  spark,  I  is  cuttin'  a  new 
set  o'  teeth  now,  and  ab  suffered  from  teethin'  most  amazin,  but  1 
will  make  him  a  lubin  wife.  Don't  be  shy,  Mr.  Plue,'  said  she, 
and  she  up  wid  one  ob  her  crutches  and  gub  him  a  poke  in  de  ribs 
dat  made  him  grunt  like  a  pig.  '  Come,  tand  up,'  said  she, '  till  de 
passon  tie  de  knot  round  your  neck.' 

"'Oh!  Lord,  missus,'  said  he,  '  ab  massy!'  But  the  parson 
married  'em,  and  said  •  Salute  your  bride !'  but  he  didn't  move. 

"  '  He  is  so  bashful,'  said  Cloe,  takin'  him  round  de  neck  and 
kissin'  ob  him.  '  Oh.  missus  !'  she  said,  '  I  is  so  proud  ob  mjr 


LOST     AT     SEA.  °.33 

bridegroom — he  do  look  so  genteel  wid  ole  massa's  frill  >.hirt  o.i, 
don't  he'?' 

'•  When  dey  went  out,  Cloe  fotched  him  a  crack  ober  his  pate 
with  her  crutch  that  sounded  like  a  cocoa-nut,  it  was  so  hollow. 

"  •  Take  dat,'  said  she,  *  for  not  sullen  ob  your  bride,  you  good- 
for-notten  onmonerly  scailawag  you.' 

*"  Poor  dear  missus  !  she  died  dat  identical  night.' 

"  Come-here,  Sorrow,"  said  I  :  "  come  and  look  me  in  the  face." 

The  moment  he  advanced,  Jerry  slipt  across  the  room,  and  hid 
behind  the  tongues  near  his  wife.  He  was  terrified  to  death. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  I,  "  she  died  of  going  the  whole 
hog  ]  Was  it  a  hog — tell  me  the  truth  ?" 

"  Well,  massa,"  said  he,  "  1  don't  know  to  a  zact  sartainty,  for  I 
was  not  dere  when  she  was  tooked  ill — 1  was  at  de  bank  at  de  time 
— but  I  will  take  my  davy  it  was  hogs  or  dogs.  I  wont  just  zackly 
sartify  which,  because  she  was  'mazin  fond  of  both  ;  but  I  will 
swear  it  was  one  or  toder,  and  dat  dey  was  cooked  wid  dere  heads 
on — dat  1  will  stificate  to  till  1  die  !' 

"Hogs  or  dogs,"  said  I,  "whole,  with  their  heads  on — do  you 
mean  that  1" 

*'  Yes,  massa,  dis  here  child  do,  of  a  sartainty/' 

"  Hogs  like  the  pig,  and  dogs  like  the  Newfoundlander  at  the 
door  1" 

"  Oh,  no,  massa,  on  course  it  don't  stand  to  argument  ob  reason 
it  was.  Oh,  no,  it  was  quatogs  and  quahogs — clams  you  know,  we 
calls  'em  down  South,  for  shortness,  hogs  and  dogs.  Oh,  massa, 
on  course  you  know'd  dat — I  is  sure  you  does — you  is  only  in- 
teiiclin'  on  pappose  to  make  game  of  dis  here  I'igger,  isn't  you." 

"  You  villain,"  said  1,  "you  took  a  rise  out  of  me  that  time,  at 
any  rate.  It  aint  often  any  feller  does  that,  so  1  think  you  deserve 
a  glass  of  the  old  Jamaica  for  it  when  we  go  on  board.  Now  go 
and  shoot  a  Jesuit  priest  if  you  see  one." 

The  gall  explained  the  order  to  her  mother. 

"  Shoot  the  priest,"  said  she,  in  French. 

"Shoot  the  priest,"  said  Jerry  ;  ''  shoot  me  !"  And  he  popped 
down  behind  his  wife,  as  if  he  had  no  objection  to  her  receiving  the 
bail. 

She  ran  to  her  chest,  and  got  out  the  little  horn  box  with  the 
nail  of  St.  Francis,  and  looked  determined  to  die  at  her  post.  Sor- 
row deposited  the  gun  in  the  corner,  hung  down  his  head,  and  said  : 

"  Dis  here  child,  Massa  Slick,  can't  do  no  murder." 

"  Then  I  must  do  it  myself/' «aid  I,  rising  and  proceeding  to  get 
my  rifle. 

"Slick,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  what  the  devil  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Wh\,"  says  I,  a  setun   down   again,  "I'll  tell  you.     Josuit 


LOST    AT    SEA. 

priests  were  first  seen  in  Spain  and  Portugal,  where  they  are  very 
tbnd  of  them.     I  have  oftrn  eaten  them  there." 
•     •'  First  seen  in  Spain  and  Portugal !"  he  replied..     l-  You  aie  out 
there — but  go  on." 

"  There  is  a  man,"  said  I,  "  in  Yorkshire,  who  says  his  ancestor 
brought  the  first  over  from  America,  when  he  accompanied  Cabot 
in  his  voyages,  and  he  has  one  as  a  crest.  But  that  is  all  bunkum. 
Cabot  never  saw  one." 

"  What  in  the  world  do  you  call  a  Jesuit  priest?" 

"  Why  a  turkey,  to  be  sure,"  said  I ;  "  that's  what  they  call  them 
at  Madrid  and  Lisbon,  after  the  Jesuits  who  first  introduced  them 
in  Europe." 

-  "My  goody  gracious  !"  said  Sorrow,  "  if  that  ain't  fun  alive  it's 
a  pity,  that's  all." 

"  Well,"  said  Jerry,  "I  was  lost  at  sea  that  time;  I  was  out  of 
sight  of  land.  It  puzzled  me  like  44°  north,  and  (W°  40'  west." 

"  Hogs,  dogs,  and  Jesuit  priests  !"  said  the  Doctor,  and  off  he 
set  again,  with  hands  on  his  sides,  rushing  round  the  room  in  con 
vulsions  of  lau (rhter. 

"  The  Priest,"  said  I  to  the  old  woman,  "  has  given  him  a  pain 
in  his  stomach,"  when  she  ran  to  the  dresser  again,  and  got  the 
cup  of  soot  for  him  which  had  not  yet  been  emptied. 

"Oh  dear!"  said  he,  "  I  can't  stxuid  that;  oh,  Slick,  you  will  be 
the  death  of  me  yet,'1  and  he  bolted  ont  of  the  house. 

Having  purchased  a  bushel  of  clarns  from  the  old  lady,  and  bid 
her  and  her  daughter  good-bye,  we  vamosed  the  ranch.*  At  tne 
door  1  saw  a  noble  gobbler. 

"  What  will  you  take  for  that  Jesuit  priest,"  said  I,  "Jerry  ?" 

"  Seven  and  sixpence,"  said  he. 

"Done,"  said  I,  and  his  head. was  perforated  with  a  ball  in  an 
instant. 

The  dog,  unused  to  such  a  sound  from  his  master's  house,  and 
recollecting  the  damage  he  received  from  the  fall  of  the  Doctor,  set 
off  with  the  most  piteous  howls  that  ever  were  heard,  and  fled  f  >r 
safety — the  pigs  squealed  as  if  they  had  each  been  wounded — and 
the  geese  joined  in  the  general  uproar — while  old  Madam  Boudiot 
and  her  daughter  rushed  screaming  to  the  door,  to  ascertain  what 
these  dreadful  men  were  about,  who  talked  of  shooting  priests  and 
eating  hogs  and  dogs  entire,  with  their  heads  on.  It  was  some  time 
before  order  was  restored,  and  when  Jerry  went  into  the  house  to 
light  his  pipe  and  deposit  his  money,  1  called  Cutler's  attention  to 

*  One  of  the  numerous  corruptions  of  Spanish  words  introduced  into  the 
States  since  the  Mexican  war,  and  signifies  to  quit  the  house  or  shanty 
Kancho  designates  a  hut,  covered  with  branches,  where  herdsmen  temporarily 
reside. 


LOST    AT   SKA.  235 

tn.  Action  and  sr-io  of  a  horse  in  the  pasture,  whom  my  gun  had 
ak  >ii«ii. 

-  xliat  animal.'  says  I,  "  must  have  dropped  from  the  clouds.  ]f 
he  )j  young  and  bound,  and  he  moves  as  if  he  were  both,  he  is 
worth  six  nundred  ooiiars.  I  must  have  him.  Can  you  give  him 
a  passage  till  we  meet  one  of  our  large  coal  ships  coming  from 
Picton." 

"  Certainly,"  said  he. 

"Jerry,"  sais  I,  when  he  returned,  "what  in  the  world  do  you 
keep  such  a  ny-away  devil  as  that  for?  why  don't  you  sell  him  and 
buy  cattle'?  Can't  you  sell  him  at  Halifax?" 

"  Oh  !"  said  he,  "  I  can't  go  there  now  no  more,  Mr.  Slick.  The 
boys  call  after  me  and  say  :  Jerry,  when  did  you  see  land  last  ?  My 
name  is  Jerry  Boudrot,  where  am  I?  Jerry,  I  thought  you  was 
lost  to  sea !  Jerry,  has  your  colt  got  any  slippares  on  yet  ?  (shoes) 
Jerry,  what  does  44—40  mean  ?  Oh  !  I  can't  stand  it !" 

"  Why  don't  you  send  him  by  a  neighbor  ?" 

"  Oh !  none  o'  my  neighbors  can  ride  him.  We  can't  break  him. 
We  are  fishermen,  not  horsemen." 

"  Where  did  he  come  from1?" 

"  The  priest  brought  a  mare  from  Canada  with  him,  and  this  i& 
her  colt.  He  gave  it  to  me  when  1  returned  from  being  lost  ax 
sea,  he  was  so  glad  to  see  me.  I  wish  you  would  buy  him,  Mr. 
Slick  ;  you  will  have  him  cheap ;  I  can't  do  nothing  with  him,  and 
no  fence  will  stop  him." 

"  What  the  plague,"  sais  I,  "do  you  suppose  I  want  of  a  horse 
on  board  of  a  ship?  do  you  want  me  to  be  lost  at  sea,  too?  and 
besides,  if  I  did  try  to  oblige  you,"  said  I,  "  and  offered  you  five 
pounds  for  that  devil  nobody  can  ride,  and  no  fence  stop,  you'd  ask 
seven  pound  ten  right  off.  Now,  that  turkey  was  not  worth  a 
dollar  here,  and  you  asked  at  once  seven  and  sixpence.  Nobody 
can  trade  with  you,  you  are  so  everlasting  sharp.  If  you  was  lost 
at  sea,  you  know  your  way  by  land,  at  all  events."' 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  say  seven  pounds  ten  and  you  will  have  him." 

"  Oh !  of  course,"  sais  I,  "  there  is  capital  pasture  on  board  of  a 
vessel.  Where  am  1  to  get  hay  till  I  send  him  home?" 

"  I  will  give  you  three  hundred  weight  into  the  bargain." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "let's  look  at  him  ;  can  you  catch  him  ?" 

He  went  into  the  house,  and  bringing  out  a  pan  of  oats,  and 
calling  him,  the  horse  followed  him  into  the  stable,  where  he  was 
secured.  I  soon  ascertained  he  was  perfectly  sound,  and  that  he 
was  an  uncommonly  fine  animal.  I  sent  Sorrow  on  board  for  my 
saddle  and  bridle,  whip  and  spurs,  and  desired  that  the  vessel  might 
be  warped  into  the  wharf.  WThen  the  negro  returned,  I  repeated 
the  terms  of  the  bargain  to  Jerry,  which  being  assented  to,  the 
j.nim;iJ  was  brought  out  into  the  centre  of  the  field,  and  whije  hi» 


236  LOST      AT     SKA. 

owner  was  talking  to  him,  I  vaulted  into  the  saddle.  At  first  he 
seemed  very  much  alarmed,  snorting  and  blowing  violently  ;  ht 
then  bounded  forward  and  dashed  out  with  his  hind  feet  most  furi- 
ously,  which  was  succeeded  by  alternate  rearing,  kicking,  and  bar-k- 
ing. I  don't  think  I  ever  see  a  .crittur  splurge  so  badly  ;  at  last  he 
ran  the  whole  length  of  the  field,  occasionally  throwing  up  his  heels 
very  high  in  the  air,  and  returned  unwillingly,  stopping  every  few 
minutes  and  plunging  outrageously.  On  the  second  trial  he  again 
ran,  and  for  the  first  time  I  gave  him  both  whip  and  spur,  and  made 
him  take  the  fence,  and,  in  returning,  I  pushed  him  in  the  same 
manner,  making  him  take  the  leap  as  before.  Though  awkward 
and  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  the  rein,  the  animal  knew  he  was 
in  the  hands  of  a  power  superior  to  his  own,  and  submitted  far 
more  easily  than  1  expected. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  wharf  I  removed  the  saddle,  and,  placing 
a  strong  rope  round  his  neck,  had  it  attached  to  the  windlass,  not  to 
drag  him  on  board,  but  to  make  him  feel,  if  he  refused  to  advance, 
that  he  was  powerless  to  resist,  an  indispensable  precaution  in 
breaking  horses.  Once,  and  once  only,  he  attempted  to  escape  ;  he 
reared  and  threw  himself,  but  finding  the  strain  irresistible,  ho 
yielded,  and  went  on  board  quietly.  Jerry  was  as  delighted  to  get 
rid  of  him  as  I  was  to  purchase  him,  and  though  I  knew  that  seven 
pound  ten  was  as  much  as  he  could  ever  realize  out  of  him,  I  felt  I 
ought  to  pay  him  for  the  hay,  and  also  that  I  could  well  afford  to 
give  him  a  little  conciliation  present;  so  I  gave  him  two  barrels  of 
Hour  in  addition,  to  enable  him  to  make  his  peace  with  his  wife, 
whom  he  had  so  grossly  insulted  by  asserting  that  his  vow  to 
heaven  was  to  hug  the  shore  hereafter,  and  had  no  reference  to  her. 
If  I  aint  mistaken.  Jerry  Boudrot,  for  so  I  have  named  the  animal 
after  him,  will  astonish  the  folks  at  Slickville;  for  of  all  the  horses 
on  this  continent,  to  my  mind,  the  real  genuine  Canadian  is  the  best 
by  all  odds. 

"  Ah!  my  friend,"  said  Jerry,  addressing  the  horse,  "  you  shall 
soon  be  out  of  sight  of  laud,  like  your  master;  but,  unlike  him,  I 
hope  you  shall  never  be  lost  at  sea." 


HOLDING     UP     THE     MIRBOR,.  237 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
HOLDING    UP    THE    MIRROR. 

FROM  Halifax  to  Cumberland,  Squire,  the  eastern  coast  of  Nova 
Scotia  presents  more  harbors  fit  for  the  entrance  of  men-of-war 
than  the  whole  Atlantic  coast  of  our  country,  from  Maine  to  Mex- 
ico. No  part  of  the  world  I  am  acquainted  with,  is  so  well  sup- 
plied, and  so  little  frequented.  They  are  "  thar,"  as  we  say,  but 
where  are  the  large  ships]  growing  in  the  forest,  I  guess.  And  the 
«rge  towns,  all  got  to  be  built,  I  reckon.  And  the  mines,  why, 
wanting  to  be  worked.  And  the  fisheries.  Well,  I'll  tell  you,  if 
you  will  promise  not  to  let  on  about  it.  We  are  going  to  have  them 
by  treaty,  as  we  now  have  them  by  trespass.  Fact  is,  we  treat 
with  the  British  an  i  the  Indians  in  the  same*  way.  Bully  them  if 
we  can,  and  if  that  will  not  do,  get  the  most  valuable  things  they 
have,  in  exchange  for  trash,  like  glass  beads  and  wooden  clocks. 
Still,  Squire,  there  is  a  vast  improvement  here,  though  I  won't  say 
there  aint  room  for  more ;  but  there  is  such  a  change  come  over 
the  people,  as  is  quite  astonishing.  The  Blue-nose  of  1854  is  no 
longer  the  Blue-nose  of  1834.  He  is  more  active,  more  industrious, 
and  more  enterprising.  Intelligent  the  crittur  always  was,  but 
unfortunately  he  was  lazy.  He  was  asleep  then,  now  he  is  wide 
awake  and  up  and  doing.  He  never  had  no  occasion  to  be  ashamed 
to  shew  himself,  for  he  is  a  good  looking  feller,  but  he  needn't  now 
be  no  longer  skeered,  to  answer  to  his  name,  when  the  muster  is 
come,  and  his'n  is  called  out  in  the  roll,  and  say  "  here  am  I  Sirrte.'1 
A  new  generation  has  sprung  up,  some  of  the  drones  are  still  about 
the  hive,  but  there  is  a  young  vigorous  race  coming  on  who  will 
keep  pace  with  the  age. 

It's  a  great  thing  to  have  a  good  glass  to  look  in  now  and  then, 
%nd  see  yourself.  They  have  had  the  mirror  held  up  to  them. 

Lord,  I  shall  never  forget  when  I  was  up  to  Rawdon  here  once,  a 
countryman  came  to  the  inn  where  I  was,  to  pay  me  for  a  clock  I 
had  put  off  on  him,  and  as  1  was  a  passin  through  the  entry  I  saw 
the  critter  standin  before  the  glass,  awfully  horrified. 

"  My  good  gracious,"  said  he,  a  talking  to  himself,  "  my  good 
gracious,  is  this  you,  John  Siniler,  I  haven't  seen  you  before  now, 
going  on  twenty  years.  Oh,  how  shockingly  you  are  altered,  1 
shouldn't  a  known  you,  I  declare." 

Now,  I  have  held  the  mirror  to  these  fellows  to  see  themselves 
in,  and  it  has  scared  them  so  they  have  shaved,  slicked  up,  and 
made  themselves  look  decent.  I  won't  say  I  made  all  the  changes 
myself,  for  Providence  scourged  them  'ntc  activity,  by  sending  the 


238  HOLDING      UP     TPE     MIRKOK. 


weavel  into  their  -tfheat  fields,  the  rot  mto  their  potatoes,  a.id  the 
drought  into  the  hay  crops.  It  made  them  scratch  round,  1  tell 
\ou,  so  as  to  earn  their  grub,  and  the  exertion  did  them  good. 
Well,  the  blisters  I  have  put  on  their  vanity,  stung  'em  so  tttey 
jumped  high  enough  to  see  the  right  road,  and  the  way  they  travel 
ahead  now  is  a  caution  to  snails. 

Now,  if  it  was  you,  who  had  done  your  country  this  sarvice,  you 
would  have  spoke  as  mealy-mouthed  of  it  as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt 
in  it.  "  1  flatters  myself,"  you  would  have  said,  "  I  had  some  little 
small  share  in  it."  "  1  have  lent  my  feeble  aid."  "  1  have  contribu- 
ted my  poor  mite,''  and  so  on,  and  looked  as  meek,  and  felt  as 
proud,  as  a  Pharisee.  Now,  that's  not  my  way.  I  hold  up  the 
mirror,  whether,  when  folks  see  themselves  in  it,  they  see  me  there- 
or  not.  The  value  of  a  glass  is  its  truth.  And  where  colonists 
have  suffered,  is  from  false  reports,  ignorance,  and  misrepresenta- 
tion. There  is  hot  a  word  said  of  them  that  can  be  depended  on. 
Missionary  returns  of  all  kinds  are  colored,  and  doctored  to  suit 
English  subscribing  palates,  and  it's  a  pity  they  should  stand  at  thf 
head  of  the  list.  British  travellers  distort  things  the  same  way. 
They  land  at  Halifax,  where  they  see  the  first  contrast  between 
Europe  and  America,  and  that  contrast  aiiit  favorable,  for  the  town 
is  dingy  lookin  and  wants  paint,  and  the  land  round  it  is  poor  and 
stony.  But  that  is  enough,  so  they  set  down  and  abuse  the  whole 
country,  stock  and  fluke,  and  write  as  wise  about  it  as  if  they  had 
seen  it  all,  instead  of  overlooking  one  mile  from  the  deck  of  a 
steamer.  The  military  enjoy  iL  beyond  anything,  and  are  far  more 
comfortable  than  in  soldiering  in  England  ;  but  it  don't  do  to  say 
so,  for  it  counts  for  foreign  service,  and  like  the  witnesses  at  the 
court-marshal  at  Windsor,  every  fe,ller  said,  nan  mi  recordo.  Gov- 
ernors who  now-a-days  have  nothing  to  do,  have  plenty  of  leisure 
to  write,  and  their  sufferings  are  such,  their  pens  are  inadequate  to 
the  task.  They  are  very  much  to  be  pitied. 

Well,  colonists  on  the  other  hand  seldom  get  their  noses  out  of 
it.  But  if  provincials  do  now  and  then  come  up  on  the  other  side 
of  the  big  pond,  like  deep  sea  fish  rising  to  the  surface,  they  spout 
and  blow  like  porpoises,  and  try  to  look  as  large  as  whales,  and 
people  onl^  laugh  at  them.  Navy  officers  extol  the  harbor  and  the 
market,  and  the  kindness  and  hospitality  of  ihe  Haligonians,  but 
that  is  ail  they  know,  and  as  far  as  that  goes  they  speak  the  truth. 
It  wants  an  impartial  friend  like  me  to  hold  up  the  mirror,  both 
for  their  sakes  and  the  Downing  Street  officials  too.  Js  it  any 
wonder  then  that  the  English  don't  know  what  they  are  talking 
about?  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  devirs  advocate,  a  nickname  I 
gave  to  one  of  the  understrappers  of  the  Colonial  office,  an  ear 
mark  that  will  stick  to  the  feller  for  ever  !  Well,  when  they  'go  to 
make  a  saint  at  Rome,  and  canonize  some  one  who  has  been  dead 


HOLDING     UP     T  H  K     MIRROR.  239 

BO  long  he  is  in  danger  of  being  forget,  the  cardinals  hold  a  sort  of 
court-martial  on  him,  and  a  man  is  r.ppointed  to  rake  and  scrape 
all  he  can  agin  him,  and  they  listen  very  patiently  to  all  he  has  to 
say,  so  as  not  to  do  things  in  a  hurry.  He  is  called  '  the  devil's 
advocate,'  but  he  never  gained  a  cause  yet.  The  same  form  usvd 
to  be  gone  through  at  Downing  Street,  by  an  underling,  but  he 
always  gained  his  point.  The  nickname  of  the  'devil's  advocate' 
that  I  gave  him  did  his  business  for  him,  he  is  no  longer  there  now. 

The  British  cabinet  wants  the  mirror  held  up  to  them,  to  show 
them  how  they  look-  to  others.  Now,  when  an  order  is  transmitted 
by  a  minister  of  the  crown,  as  was  done  last  war,  to  send  all  Yan- 
kee prisoners  to  the  fortress  of  Louisburg  for  safe  keeping,  when 
that  fortress  more  than  sixty  years  before  had  been  so  effectually 
razed  from  the  face  of  the  earth  by  engineer  officers  sent  from  Eng- 
land for  the  purpose,  why  it  is  natural  a  colonist  should  laugh,  and 
say  capital !  only  it  is  a  little  too  good  ;  and  when  another  minister 
says,  he  can't  find  good  men  to  be  governors,  in  order  to  defend 
appointments  that  tus  own  party  say  are  too  bad,  what  language  is 
strong  enough  to  express  his  indignation.  Had  he  said  openly  and 
manly,  we  are  so  situated,  and  so  bound  by  parliamentary  obliga- 
tions we  not  only  have  to  pass  over  the  whole  body  of  provincial* 
themselves  who  have  the  most  interest  and  are  best  informed  in  colonial 
matters,  but  we  have  to  appoint  some  people  like  those  to  whom 
you  object,  who  are  forced  upon  us  by  hollerin'  their  day  lights- out  of 
us  at  elections,  when  we  would  gladly  select  others,  who  are  wholly 
unexceptionable,  and  their  name  is  legion.  Why  they  would  have 
pitied  his  condition  and  admired  his  manliness.  If  this  sweeping 
charge  be  true,  what  an  enconiurn  it  is  upon  the  Dalhousies,  the 
Gosfords,  the  Durhams,  Sy den  hams,  Metcalfs  and  Elgins,  that  they 
were  chosen  because  suitable  men  could  not  be  found,  if  not  sup- 
ported by  party.  All  that  can  be  said  for  a  minister  who  talks 
such  stuff,  is  that  a  man  who  knows  so  little  of  London  as  to  be 
unable  to  find  the  shortest  way  home,  may  easily  lose  himself  in 
the  wilds  of  Canada. 

Now  we  licked  the  British  when  we  had  only  three  millions  of 
people,  including  niggers,  who  are  about  as  much  use  in  a  war  as 
crows  that  feed  on  the  slain,  but  don't  help  to  kill  'em.  We  have 
'run  up'  an  empire,  as  we  say  of  a  'wooden  house,'  or  as  the  gall 
who  was  asked  where  she  was  raised,  said  'she  warn't  raised,  she 
growed  up.'  We  have  shot  up  into  manhood,  afore  our  beards 
grew,  and  have  made  a  nation  that  aint  afeard  of  all  creation. 
Where  will  you  find  a  nation  like  ours?  Answer  me  that  question 
but  don't  reply  as  an  Irishman  does  by  repeating  it.  '  Is  it  where 
1  will  find  one,  your  honor!' 

Minister  used  to  talk  of  some  old  chap,  that  killed  a  dragon  and 
planted  his  teeth,  and  armed  men  sprung  up.  As  soon  as  we  whip 


i>40  H  O  L  I)  1  X  G     U  I      THE     M  I  R  It  O  K  . 

ped  the  British  we  sowed  their  teeth,  and  full-grown  coons  giowed 
right  out  of  the  earth.  Lord  bless  you,  we  have  fellows  like  Crocket 
that  would  sneeze  a  man-of-war  right  out  of  the  water.  • 

We  have  a  right  to  brag;  in  fact  it  aint  braggin,  its  talking  his- 
tory, and  cramming  statistics  down  a  fellow's  throat,  and  if  he 
wants  tables  to  set  down  to,  and  study  them,  there's  the  old  chairs 
of  the  governors  of  the  thirteen  united  universal  worlds  of  the  old 
states,  besides  the  rough  ones  of  the  new  states  to  sit  on,  and  can- 
vas-back ducks,  blue  point  oysters,  and  as  Sorrow  says,  "hogs  and 
d<>gs,"  for  soup  and  pies,  for  refreshment  from  labor,  as  freemasons 
say.  Brag  is  a  good  dog  and  holdfast  is  a  better  one,  but  whai  do 
you  say  to  a  cross  of  the  two — and  that's  just  what  we  are.  An 
English  statesman  actually  thinks  nobody  knows  anything  but 
himself.  And  his  conduct  puts  folks  both  on  the  defensive  and 
offensive.  He  eyes  even  an  American  all  over  as  much  as  to  say, 
where  the  plague  did  you  originate,  what  field  of  cotton  or  tobacco 
was  you  took  from,  and  if  a  Canadian  goes  to  Downing-street,  the 
secretary  steirts,  as  much  as  to  say,  1  hope  you  han't  got  one  o' 
them  rotten  e<rgs  in  your  h.ind.  you  pelted  Elgin  with.  Upon  my 
soul,  it  wern't  my  fault,  his  indemnify  in'  rebels,  we  never  encourage 
traitors  except  in  Spain,  Sicily,  Hungary,  and  places  we  have 
nothin'  to  do  with.  He  brags  of  purity  as  much  as  a  dirty  piece  of 
paper  does,  that  it  was  originally  clean. 

"  We  appreciate  your  loyalty  most  fully  I  assure  you,"  he  says. 
"  When  the  militia  put  down  the  rebellion,  without  efficient  aid 
from  the  military,  parliament  would  have  passed  a  vote  of  thanks 
to  you  for  your  devotion  to  our  cause,  but  really  we  were  so  busy 
just  then  we  forgot  it.  Put  that  egg  in  your  pocket,  that's  a  good 
fellow,  but  don't  set  clown  on  it,  or  it  might  stain  the  chair,  and 
folks  might  think  you  was  frightened  at  seeing  so  big  a  man  as  me," 
and  then  he  would  turn  round  to  the  window  and  laugh. 

Whoever  brags  over  me  gets  the  worst  of  it,  that's  a  fact.  Lord, 
1  shall  never  forget  a  rise  1  once  took  out  of  one  of  these  magnetized 
officials,  who  know  all  about  the  colonies,  tho'  they  never  saw  one. 
I  don't  want  any  man  to  call  me  coward,  and  sav  I  won't  take  it 
passonal.  There  was  a  complaint  made  by  sonic  of  our  folks, 
against  the  people  of  the  Lower  provinces  seizing  our  coasters 
under  pretence  they  were  intrudin  on  the  fisheries,  our  ernbassador 
was  laid  up  at  the  time  with  rheumatism  which  he  called  gout, 
because  it  sounded  diplomatic.  So  says  he,  '•  Slick,  take  this  letter 
and  deliver  it  to  the  minister,  and  give  him  some  verbal  explana- 
tions." 

Well,  down  I  goes,  was  announced  and  ushered  in,  and  when  he 
saw  me,  he  looked  me  all  over  as  a  tailor  does  a  man  before  he 
takes  his  measure.  It  made  me  hoppin'  mad  1  tell  you,  for  in  a 
general  way  1  don't  allow  any  man  to  turn  up  his  nose  at  iuf 


HOLDIJ5G     UP    THE     MIRROR  241 

without  having  a  shot  at  it.  So  when  I  sat  down  I  spit  into  the 
fire,  in  a  way  to  put  it  out  amost,  and  he  drew  back  and  made  a 
face,  a  leetle,  just  a  leetle  uglier  then  his  natural  one  was. 

'  Bad  habit,"  sais  I,  "  that  of  spittin',  aint  it  ?  "  lookin'  up  at 
him  as  innocent  as  you  please,  and  makin  a  face  exactly  like  his. 

"  Very,"  said  he,  and  he  gave  a  shudder. 

Sais  I,  "  I  don't  know  whether  you  are  aware  of  it  or  not,  but 
most  bad  habits  are  catching." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  said  he,  and  he  drew  a  little  further  off. 

"  Fact,"  sais  f,  "  now  if  you  look  long  and  often  at  a  man  that 
winks,  it  sets  you  a  winkin'.  If  you  see  a  fellow  with  a  twitch  in 
his  face,  you  fee!  your  cheek  doin'  the  same,  and  stammerin'  is 
catching  too.  Now  I  caught  that  hubit  at  court,  since  I  came  to 
Europe.  I  dined  wunst  with  the  King  of  Prussia,  when  I  was  with 
the  embassador  on  a  visit  at  Berlin,  and  the  King  beats  all  natur  in 
spittin',  and  the  noise  he  makes  aforehand  is  like  clearin'  a  grato 
out  with  a  poker,  it's  horrid.  Well,  that's.not  the  worst  of  it,  he 
uses  that  ugly  German  word  for  it,  that  vulgarians  translate  "  spit- 
ting." Now  some  of  our  western  people  are  compelljed  to  chew  a 
little  tobacco,  but  like  a  broker  tasting  cheese,  when  testing  wine, 
it  «s  only  done  to  be  able  to  judge  of  the  quality  of  the  article,  but 
ev«n  them  unsophisticated,  free  and  enlightened  citizens,  have  an 
innate  refinement  about  them.  They  never  use  that  nasty  word, 
but  call  it  '••expressing  the  ambia"  Well,  whenever  his  Majesty 
crosses  my  mind,  I  do  the  same  out  of  clear  sheer  disgust.  Some 
o'  them  sort  of  uppercrust  people  think  they  can  do  as  they  like, 
and  I  call  them  big  bugs  who  use  the  privilege  of  indulging  those 
evil  habits.  When  folks  like  the  king  do  it,  I  calls  them  '•  High, 
low.  jack,  and  the  game." 

Weil,  the  stare  he  gave  me  would  a  made  you  die  a  larfin';  i 
never  saw  a  man  in  my  life  look  so  skeywonakv.  He  knew  it  was 
true  that  the  king  had  that  custom,  and  it  dumbfoundered  him. 
He  looked  at  me  as  much  as  to  say,  well,  that  is  capital;  the  idea 
of  a  Yankee,  who  spits  like  a  garden  engine,  swearing  it's  a  bad 
habit  he. lamed  in  Europe,  and  a  trick  he  got  from  dining  with  a 
king,  is  the  richest  thing  i  ever  heard  in  my  life.  1  must  tell  that 
to  Palmerston. 

But  I  didn't  let  him  off  so  easy.     In  the  course  of  talk,  says  he: 

u  Mr.  Slick,  is  it  true  that  in  South  Carolina,  if  a  free  nigger,  on 
board  of  one  of  our  vessels,  lands  there,  he  is  put  into  jail  until  the 
ship  sails  ?" 

'•  It  is,"  said  I.     "  We  consider  a  free  nigger  and  a  free  English 
man  on  a  par;  we  imprison  a  free  black  lest  he  should  corrupt 
our  slaves.     The  Duke  of  Tuscany  imprisons  a  free  Englishman,  i( 
he  ha?  a  I  ible  in  his  possession,  lest  he  should  corrupt  his  sia*"* 
11 


'242  HOLDING     UP     THE     MIRROR. 

It's  upon  the  principle,  that  what  is  sauce  for  the  goose,  is  sauce  for 
the  gander." 

He  didn't  pursue  the  subject. 

That's  what  1  call  brag  for  brag.  We  never  allow  any  created 
critter,  male  or  female,  to  go  ahead  of  us  in  anything.  1  heard  a 
lady  say  to  an  embassador's  wife,  once,  in  answer  to  her  question, 
"  how  she  was  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  am  in  such  rude  health,  I  have  grown  quite  indecently 
stout." 

Embassadress  never  heard  them  slang  words  before  (for  even 
High  life  has  its  slang),  but  she  wouldn't  be  beat. 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  "  all  that  will  yield  to  exercise.  Before  I  was 
married  I  was  the  rudest  and  most  indecent  gull  in  all  Connecticut." 

Well,  now,  an  Irishman,  with  his  elbow  through  his  coat,  and  his 
shirt,  if  he  has  one,  playing  diggy -doubt  from  his  trowsers, 
flourishes  his  shillalah  over  his  head,  and  brags  of  the  '  Imirald  Isle,' 
and  the  most  splendid  pisantry  in  the  world  ;  a  Scotchman  boasts, 
that  next  to  the  devil  and  the  royal  owner  of  Etna,  he  is  the  richest 
proprietor  of  sulphur  that  ever  was  heard  of;  while  a  Frenchman, 
whose  vanity  exceeds  both,  has  the  modesty  to  call  the  English  a 
nation  of  shopkeepers,  the  Yankees,  canaille,  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  beasts.  Even  John  Chinaman  swaggers  about  with  his  three 
tails,  and  calls  foreigners  '•  Barbarians."  If  we  go  ahead  and  speak 
out,  do  you  do  su.  too.  You  have  a  right  to  do  so.  Hold  the 
mirror  to  them,  and  your  countrymen,  too.  It  won't  lie,  that's  a 
faet.  They  require  it,  I  assure  you.  The  way  the  just  expecta- 
tions of  provincials  have  been  disappointed,  the  loyal  portion 
depressed,  the  turbulent  petted,  and  the  manner  the  feelings  of  all 
disregarded,  the  contempt  that  has  accompanied  concessions,  the 
neglect  that  has  followed  devotion  and  self-sacrifice,  and  the  extra- 
ordinary manner  the  just  claims  of  the  meritorious  postponed  to 
parliamentary  support,  has  worked  a  change  in  the  feelings  of  the 
people,  that  the  Downing  street  officials  cannot  understand,  or 
surely  they  \rould  pursue  a  different  course.  They  want  to  have 
the  mirror  hsld  nn  to  them. 

I  know  they  feel  sore  here  about  the  picture  my  mirror  gives 
them,  and  it's  natural  they  should,  especially  comin'  from  a  Yankee; 
and  they  call  me  a  great  bragger.  But  that's  nothin'  new  ;  doctors 
do  the  same  when  a  feller  cures  a  poor  wretch  they  have  squeezed 
like  a  sponge,  ruinated,  and  gin  up  as  past  hope.  They  sing  out 
quack.  But  1  don't  care  ;  I  have  a  right  to  brag  nationally  and  in- 
dividually, and  I'd  be  no  good  if  1  did'nt  take  my  own  part.  Now, 
though  I  say  it  that  shouldn't  say  it.  for  I  ain't  afraid  to  speak  ou^, 
the  sketches  I  send  you  are  from  life ;  I  paint  things  as  you  will  find 
them  and  know  them  to  be.  I'll  take  a  bet  of  a  hundred  dollars, 
ten  people  out  of  twelve  in  this  country,  will  recognize  Jerry 


HOLDING     UP     THE     MIRROR.  243 

Boudrot's  house  who  have  ne^er  entered  it,  but  who  have  seen 
others  exactly  like  it,  and  will  say,  "  I  know  who  is  meant  by  Jerry 
and  his  daughter  and  wife ;  I  have  often  been  there  ;  it  is  at  Clare, 
or  Arichat,  or  Pumnico,  or  some  such  place  or  another." 

Is  that  braggin  ?  Not  a  bit ;  it's  only  the  naked  fact.  To  my 
mind,  there  is  no  vally  in  a  sketch,  if  it  aint  true  to  nature.  We 
needn't  go  searching  about  for  strange  people  cr  strange  thing«  ; 
life  is  full  of  them.  There  is  queerer  things  happening  every  day 
than  an  author  can  imagine  for  the  life  of  hirr;.  It  takes  a  great' 
many  odd  people  to  make  a  world;  that's  a  fact.  Now,  if  I 
describe  a  house  that  has  an  old  hat  in  one  window,  and  a  pair  of 
trousers  in  another,  I  don't  stop  to  turn  glazier,  take  'em  out,  and 
put  whole  glass  in,- nor  make  a  garden  where  there  is  none,  and  put 
a  large  tree  in  the  foreground  for  effect ;  but  I  take  it  as  I  find  it, 
and  I  take  people  in  the  dress  I  find  'em  in,  and  it"  I  set  'em  a  talkin', 
I  take  their  very  words  down.  Nothing  gives  you  a  right  idea  of 
a  country  and  its  people  like  that. 

There  is  always  some  interest  in  natur',  wh°"e  truly  depicted. 
Minister  used  to  say  that  some  author  (I  think  he  said  it  was  <  Id  Dic- 
tionary Johnson)  remarked  that  the  life  of  any  rr.an,  if  wrote  truly, 
would  be  interesting.  I  think  so,  too;  for  every  man  has  a  story  of  his 
own,  adventures  of  his  own,  and  some  things  have  liappened  to  him 
that  never  happened  to  anybody  else.  People  here  abuse  me  for 
all  this  ;  they  say,  after  all  my  boastin'  I  don't  do  'em  justice.  But 
after  you  and  1  are  dead  and  gone,  and  things  have  been  changed, 
as  it  is  to  be  hoped  they  will,  so  trie  day  or  anol'.ier,  for  the  better, 
unless  they  are  like  their  Acadian  French  neighbors,  and  intend  to 
remain  just  as  they  are  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  years,  then  these 
sketches  will  be  curious;  and,  as  they  are  as  true  to  life  as  a  Dutch 
picture,  it  will  be  interestin'  to  see  what  sort  ot'  folks  were  here 
in  1854,  how  they  lived,  and  how  they  employed  themselves,  and 
so  on. 

Now  it's  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago  since  Smollett  wrote, 
but  his  men  and  women  were  taken  from  real  life,  his  sailors  from 
the  navy,  his  attorneys  from  the  jails  and  criminal  courts,  and  his 
fops  and  fine  ladies  from  the  herd  of  such  cattle  that  he  daily  met 
with.  Well,  they  are  read  now ;  1  have  'em  to  home,  and  laugh 
till  1  cry  over  them.  Why?  Because  natur  is  the  same  always. 
Although  we  didn't  live  a  hundred  years  ago,  wo  can  see  how  the 
folks  of  that  age  did  ;  and,  although  society  is  altered,  and  there 
are  no  Admiral  Beubows,  nor  Hawser  Trunnions,  and  fclks  don't 
travel  in  vans  with  canvas  covers,  or  wear  swords,  and  frequent 
taverns,  and  all  that,  as  they  used  to  did  to  England  ;  still  it's  a 
pirtur  of  the  times,  and  instructin'  as  well  as  amusin'.  ]  havo 
learned  more  how  folks  dressed,  talked,  and  lived,  and  thought,  an. I 
what  sort  of  critters  th-\v  were,  and  what  the  stn*e  cf  society,  high 


HOLDING     UP     THE     MIRKOR. 

and  low,  was  then,  from  his  books  and  Fielding's,  than  any  1  know 
of.  They  are  true  to  life,  and  as  long  as  natur  remains  the  same, 
which  it  always  will,  they  will  be  read.  That's  my  idea  at  least. 

Some  squeamish  people  turn  up  the  whites  of  their  peepers  at 
boil]  those  authors,  and  say  they  are  coarse.  How  can  they  be 
otherwise?  society  was  coarse.  There  are  more  veils  worn  now, 
but  the  devil  still  lurks  in  the  eye  under  the  veil.  Things  ain't 
talked  of  so  openly,  or  done  so  openly  in  modern  as  in  old  times. 
There  is  more  concealment;  and  concealment  is  called  delicacy. 
But  where  concealment  is,  the  passions  are  excited  by  the  difficul 
ties  imposed  by  society.  Barriers  are  erected  too  high  to  scale,  but 
every  barrier  has  its  wicket,  its  latch  key,  and  its  private  door. 
Natur  is  natur  still,  and  there  is  as  much  of  that  lhat  is  condemned 
in  liis  books,  now,  as  there. was  then.  -  There  is  a  horrid  sight  of 
hypocrisy  now,  more  than  there  was  one  hundred  years  ago  ;  vice 
was  audacious  then,  and  scared  folks.  It  aint't  so  bold,  at  present, 
as  it  used  to  did  to  be ;  but  if  it  is  forbid  to  enter  the  drawing-room, 
the  back  staircase  is  still  free.  Where  there  is  a  wi'l  there  is  a 
way,  and  always  will  be.  I  hate  pretence,  and,  above  all,  mock 
modesty  ;  it's  a  bad  sign. 

1  knew  a  clergyman  to  home,  a  monstrous  pious  man,  and  so 
delicate-minded,  he  altered  a  great  many  words  and  passages  in  the 
Church  Service,  he  said  he  couldn't  find  it  in  his  heart  to  read  them 
out  in  ineetin,  and  yet  that  fellow  to  my  sartain  knowledge  was  the 
greatest  scamp  in  private  life  I  ever  knew.  Gracious  knows,  I  don't 
approbate  coarseness,  it  shocks  me,  but  narvous  sensibility  makes  me 
sick.  1  like  to  call  things  by  their  right  names,  and  I  call  a  leg  a 
leg,  and  not  a  larger  limb,  a  shirt  a  shirt,  though  it  is  next  the  skin, 
and  not  a  linen  vestment,  and  a  stocking  a  stocking,  though  it  does 
reach  up  the  log,  and  not  a  silk  hose;  and  a  garter  a  garter,  though 
it  is  above  the  calf,  and  not  an  elastic  bana  or  a  hose  suspender. 
A  really  modest  woman  was  never  squeamish.  Fastidiousness  is  the 
envelope  of  indelicacy.  To  see  harm  in  ordinary  words,  betrays  a. 
knowledge  and  not  ignorance  of  evil. 

But  that  is  neither  here  nor  there,  as  I  was  savin,  when  you  are 
dead  and  gone,  these  journals  of  mine  which  you  have  edited, 
when  mellowed  by  time,  will  let  the  hereafter-to-be  Blue-noses,  see 
what  the  has  been  Nova  Scotians  here  from  '34  to  '54  were.  Now 
if  something  of  the  same  kind  had  been  done  when  Halifax  was 
first  settled  a  hundred  years  ago,  what  strange  coons  the  old  folks 
would  seem  to  us.  That  state  of  society  has  passed  away  as  well 
as  the  aclors.  For  instance,  when  the  rnilitia  was  embodied  to  do 
duty  so  late  as  the  Duke  of  Kent's  time,  Ensign  Lane's  name  was 
called  on  parade.  "  Not  here,"  said  Lieutenant  Grover,  "  he  ia 
mending  Sargent  Street's  breeches." 

Many  a   queer   thing  occurred   then  that  would  make  a  queer 


HOJDING     LP     THE     MIKKC/S.  245 

hook,  I  assure  you.  There  is  much  that  is  characteristic  both  to 
be  seen  and  heard  in  every  harbor  in  this  province,  the  right  way 
is  to  jot  all  down.  Every  place  has  its  standing  topic.  At  Wind- 
sor it  is  the  gypsum  trade,  the  St.  John's  steamer,  the  Halifax 
coach,  and  a  new  house  that  is  building.  In  King's  County  its 
export  of  potatoes,  bullocks  and  horses.  At  Annapolis,  cord- 
wood,  oars,  staves,  shingles,  and  agricultural  produce  of  all  kinds. 
At  Digby,  smoked  herrings,  fish-weirs  and  St.  John  markets.  At 
Yarmouth,  foreign  freights,  berthing,  rails,  cat-heads,  lower  cheeks, 
wooden  bolsters,  and  the  crown,  palm,  and  shank  of  anchors.  At 
Shelburne,  it  is  divided  between  fish,  lumber,  and  the  price  of  ves- 
sels. At  Liverpool,  ship-building,  deals  and  timber,  knees,  tran 
sums  and  futtucks,  pintles,  keelsons,  and  moose  lines.  At  Lunen 
burg,  Jeddore  and  Chesencook,  the  state  of  the  market  at  the 
capital.  At  the  other  harbors  further  to  the  eastward,  the  coal 
trade  and  the  fisheries  engross  most  of  the  conversation.  You 
hear  continually  of  the  fall  run  and  the  spring  catch  of  mackerel 
that  set  in  but  don't  stop  to  bait.  The  remarkable  discovery  of 
the  French  coasters,  that  was  made  fitly  vears  ago,  and  still  is  as 
new  and  as  fresh  as  ever,  that  when  fish  are  plenty  there  is  no  salt, 
and  nhen  salt  is  abundant  there  are  no  fish,  continually  startles 
you  with  ib*  novelty  and  importance.  While  you  are  both  amused 
and  instructed  by  learning  the  meaning  of  coal  cakes,  Albion  tops, 
and  what  a  Chesencooker  delights  in,  "slack,"  you  also  find  out 
that  a  hundred  tons  of  coal  at  Sydney,  means  when  it  reaches  Hali- 
fax one  hundred  and  fifteen,  and  that  West  India,  Mediterranean 
and  Brazilian  fish  are  actually  made  on  these  shores.  These  local 
topics  are  greatly  diversified  by  politics,  which  like  crowfoot  and 
\\hiteweed,  abound  everywhere. 

Halifax  has  all  sorts  of  talk.  Now  if  you  was  writin  and  not 
me,  you  would  have  to  call  it,  to  please  the  people,  that  flourishing 
great  capital  of  the  greatest  colony  of  Great  Britain,  the  town 
with  the  harbor,  as  you  say  of  a  feller  who  has  a  large  handle  to 
his  fare,  the  man  with  the  nose,  that  place  that  is  destined  to  be 
the  (London)  of  Ameiica.  which  is  a  fact  if  it  ever  fulfils  its  destiny. 
The  little  scrubby  dwarf  spruces  on  the  coast  are  destined  not  to 
be  lofty  pines,  because  that  can't  be  in  the  natur  of  things, 
although  some  folks  talk  as  if  they  expected  it;  but  they  are 
destined  to  be  enormous  trees,  and  although  they  havn't  grown  an 
inch  the  last  fifty  years,  who  can  tell  but  they  may  exceed  the 
expectations  that  has  been  formed  of  them.  Yes,  you  would  have 
to  give  it  a  shove,  it  wants  it  bad  enough,  and  lay  it  on  thick  too, 
so  as  it  will  stick  for  one  season. 

It  reminds  me  of  a  Yankee  1  met  at  New  York  wunst ;  he  was 
disposin'  cf  a  new  hydraulic  cement  he  had  invented.  N<».v, 
cecao.nt*  either  to  rt-si.-t  tin-  or  \\-»UT,  or  to  mend  the  most 


246  HOLDING     UP     THE     MIRROR. 

china,  or  to  stop  a  crack  in  a  stove,  is  a  thing  I  rather  pride  myself 
•>n.  I  make  my  own  cement  always,  it  is  so  much  better  than  any 
I  can  buy. 

Sais  I,  "  what  are  your  ingredients?" 

"  Yes,"  sais  he,  ''  tell  you  my  secrets,  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag 
for  you  to  catch  by  the  tail.  No,  no,"  sais  he,  "  excuse  me  if  you 
please." 

It  ryled  me  that,  so  I  just  steps  up  to  him,  as  savage  as  a  meat- 
axe,  intendin'  to  throw  him  down  stairs,  when  the  feller  turned  as 
pale  as  a  rabbit's  beily,  I  vow  1  could  hardly  help  laughin,  so  I 
didn't  touch  him  at  all. 

•'  But,"  sais  i,  "  you  and  the  cat  in  the  bag  may  run  to  Old  Nick, 
and  see  which  will  get  there  first,  and  say  tag — I  don't  want  the 
secret,  for  I  don't  believe  you  know  yourself.  If  1  was  to  see  a 
bit  of  the  cement,  and  break  it  up  myself,  I'd  tell  you  in  a  moment 
whether  it  was  good  for  any  thing." 

"Well,"  sais  he,  "I'll  tell  )ou;"and  he  gave  me  all  the  par- 
ticulars. 

Sais  I,  '•  it's  no  good,  two  important  ingredients  are  wantin',  and 
you  haven't  tempered  it  right,  and  it  won't  stick." 

Sais  he,  "  1  guess  it  will  stick  till  1  leave  the  city,  and  that  will 
answer  me  and  my  eends." 

"  No,"  sais  I,  "  it  won't,  it  will  ruin  you  forever,  and  injure  the 
reputation  of  Connecticut  among  the  nations  of  the  airth.  Come  to 
me  when  1  return  to  Slickville,  and  1  will  show  you  the  proper  thing 
in  use,  tested  by  experience,  in  tanks,  in  brick  and  stone  walls,  and 
in  a  small  furnace.  Give  me  two  thousand  dollars  for  the  receipt, 
lake  out  a  patent,  and  your  fortune  is  made." 

"  Well,"  sais  he,  "  1  will  if  it's  all  you  say,  for  there  is  a  great 
demand  for  the  article,  if  it's  only  the  true  Jeremiah." 

"  Don't  mind  what  1  say,"  said  1,  "  ask  it  what  it  says,  there  it 
is,  go  look  at  it." 

Well,  you  would  have  to  give  these  Haligonians  a  coat  of  white- 
wash that  would  stick  till  you  leave  the  town.  But  that's  your 
Jiffiiir  and  not  mine.  1  hold  the  mirror  truly,  and  don't  flatter. 
Now,  Halifax  is  a  sizable  place,  and  covers  a  good  deal  of  ground, 
it  is  most  as  large  as  a  piece  of  chalk,  which  wi'l  give  a  stranger  a 
very  good  notion  of  it.  It  is  the  seat  of  government,  a.id  there  are 
some  very  important  officers  there,  judging  by  their  titles.  There 
are  a  receiver-general,  an  accountant  general,  an  attorney-general, 
a  solicitor-general,  a  commissar y -gen era!,  an  assistant  commissary- 
general,  the  general  in  command,  the  quartermaster-general,  the 
adjutant-general,  the  vicar-general,  surrogate-general,  and  postmas- 
ter-general. His  excellency  the  governor,  and  his  excellency  the 
admiral.  The  master  of  the  rolls,  their  lordships  the  judges,  the 
lord-bishop,  and  the  archbishop,  archdeacon,  secretary  for  the  Iloina 


HOLDING     UP     THE     MIRROR.  247 

department,  and  a  host  of  great  men,  with  the  handle  of  honorable 
to  their  names.  Mayors,  colonels,  and  captains,  whether  of  the 
regulars  or  the  militia,  they  don't  count  more  than  fore-cabin  pas- 
sengers. It  ain't  considered  genteel  for  them  to  come  abaft  the 
paddle-wheel.  Indeed  the  quarter-deck  wouldn't  accommodate  so 
many.  Now,  there  is  the  same  marvel  about  this  small  town  that 
there  was  about  the  scholar's  head — 

"  And  still  the  wonder  grew, 
How  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew." 

Well,  it  is  a  wonder  so  many  great  men  can  be  warm-clothed, 
bedded  down,  and  well  stalled  there,  ain't  it  ?  But  they  are,  and 
very  comfortably  too.  This  is  the  upper  crust,  now  the  under 
crust  consists  of  lawyers,  doctors,  merchants,  nrmy  and  navy  folks, 
small  officials,  articled  clerks,  and  so. on.  Well,  in  course  such  a 
town,  I  beg  pardon,  it  is  a  city,  (which  is  more  than  Liverpool  in 
England  is,)  and  has  two  cathedral  churches,  with  so  many  grades, 
trades,  blades,  and  pretty  maids  in  it,  tht:  talk  must  be  various. 
The  military  talk  is  professional,  with  tender  reminiscences  of  home, 
and  some  little  boasting,  that  they  are  suffering  in  their  country's 
cause,  by  being  so  long  on  foreign  service  at  Halifax.  The  young 
sword-knots  that  have  just  joined  are  brim  full  of  ardor,  and  swear 
by  Jove  (the  young  heathens)  it  is  too  bad  to  be  shut  up  in  this 
vile  hole,  (youngsters,  take  my  advice,  and  don't  let  the  town's- 
people  hear  that,  or  they  will  lynch  you)  instead  of  going  to  Con- 
stantinople. 

'•  I  say,  Lonnox,  wouldn't  that  be  jolly  work  ?" 

"Great  work,"  says  Lennox,  "rum  coves  those  Turks  must  be 
in  the  field,  eh1?  The  G>lonel  is  up  to  a  thing  or  two;  if  he  was 
knocked  on  the  head,  there  would  be  such  promotion,  no  one  would 
lament  him,  but  his  dear  wife  and  five  lovely  daughters,  and  they 
would  be  really  distressed  to  lose  him." 

He  don't  check  the  youthful  ardor,  on  the  contrary,  chimes  in, 
and  is  in  hopes  he -can  make  interest  at  the  Horse-guards  for  the 
regiment  to  go  yet,  and  then  he  gives  a  wink  to  the  doctor,  who 
was  in  the  corps  when  he  was  a  boy,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  old  fel- 
low, you  and  I  have  seen  enough  of  the  pleasures  of  campaigning 
in  our  day,  eh!  Doctor,  that  is  good  wine ;  but  it's  getting  con- 
founded dear  lately  ;  I  don't  mind  it  myself,  but  it  makes  the 
expense  of  the  mess  fall  heavy  upon  the  youngsters."  '1  he  jolly 
subs  look  across  the  table  and  wink,  for  they  kuow  that's  all  bun- 
kum. 

"  Doctor,"  sais  a  new  hand,  "  do  you  know  if  Cargill  has  sold  his 
orses.  His  leada  is  a  cleverwish  saut  c  f  thing,  but  the  wheela  \»  » 


218  HOLDING     UP     T  U  E     M  I  R  14  O  K  . 

ricrlar  Lute.     That's  a  goodish  orse  the  Admewall  wides;  I  wonder 
if  he  is  going  to  take  him  ome  with  him." 

"  Haven't  heard — can't  say.  Jones,  what's  that  thing  that  wont 
burn,  do  you  know  ?  Confound  the  thing,  1  have  got  it  on  the  tip 
of  my  tongue  too." 

"  Asphalt,"  sais  Jones. 

"  No  !  that's  not  it ;  that's  what  wide-awakes  are  made  of." 

"  Perhaps   so,"   says  Gage,  "  ass  felt   is  very  appropriate  for 
fool's  cap." 

At  which  there  is  a  great  roar. 

"  No  ;  but  really  what  is  it  ?" 

"Is  it  arbutus  ?"  sais  Simpkins,  "I  think  they  make  it  at  Kil- 
larney — " 

"No,  no;  oh!  1  have  it,  asbestos;  well,  that's  what  I  believe 
the  cigars  here  are  made  of— they  wont  go." 

';  There  are  a  good  many  things  here  that  are  no  go,"  sais  Gage, 
"  like  Perry's  bills  on  Coutts  ;  but,  Smith,  where  did  \  ou  get  that 
Hash  waistcoat  I  saw  last  night  ?" 

"Oh  !  that  was  worked  by  a  poor  despairing  girl  at  Bath,  during 
a  fit  of  the  scarlet  fever." 

"It  was  a  memento  mori  then,  1  suppose,"  replies  the  other. 

But  all  the  talk  is  not  quite  so  frivolous.  Opposite  to  that  large 
stone  edifice  is  an  old  cannon  standing  on  end  at  the  corner  of  the 
Mreet.  to  keep  carriages  from  trespassing  on  the  pavement,  and  the 
non-military  assemble  round  it;  they  are  civic  great  guns.  They 
are  discuss;ng  the  great  event  of  the  season — the  vote  of  want  of 
confidence  of  last  night,  the  resignation  of  the  provincial  ministry 
i  his  morning,  and  the  startling  fact  that  the  head  uphol>terer  has 
been  sent  for  to  furnish  a  new  cabinet,  that  wont  warp  with  the 
heat  and  fly  apart.  It  is  very  important  news  ;  it  has  been  tele- 
graphed to  Washington,  and  was  considered  so  alarming,  the  Pre- 
sident was  waked  up  to  be  informed  of  it.  He  rubbed  his  eyes 
and  said  : 

''  Well,  1  acknowledge  the  corn,  you  may  take  my  hat.  I  hope 
1  may  be  cowhided  if  I  knew  they  had  a  ministrv.  1  thought  they 
only  had  a  governor,  and  a  regiment  for  a  constitution.  Will  it 
aft'ect  the  stocks?  How  it  will  scare  the  Emperor  of  Rooshia, 
wont  it?''  and  he  roared  so  loud  he  nearly  choked.  That  just 
shows  (everybody  regards  the  speaker  with  silence  f  r  he  is  ah  ora- 
cle,) says  Omniscient  Pitt,  that  just  shows  how  little  the  Yankees 
know  and  how  little  the  English  care  about  us.  "  If  we  want  to 
be  indepindent  and  n-spictable,"  sais  an  Hibernian  magnate,  "  we 
must  repale  the  Union."  But  what  is  this,  here  is  a  fellow  tied 
hand  and  foot  on  a  truck,  which  is  conveying  him  to  the  police 
court,  swearing  and  screaming  horribly.  What  is  the  meaning  »l 
all  that  1 


HOLDING     U  !•      THE     MlRKOR.  249 

A  little  cynical  old  man,  commonly  called  the  major,  looks 
knowing,  puts  on  a  quizzical  expression,  and  touching  his  nose  with 
the  tip  of  his  finger,  says,  ''One  of  the  new' magistrates  qualifying 
as  he  goes  down  to  be  sworn  into  office." 

It  makes  the  politicians  smile,  restores  their  equanimity,  and 
they  make  room  for  another  committee  of  safety.  A  little  lower 
down  the  street,  a  mail-coach  is  starting  for  Windsor,  and  ten  or  fif 
teen  men  are  assembled  doing  their  utmost,  and  twenty  or  thirty 
boys  helping  them,  to  look  at  the  passengers;  but  are  unexpect- 
edly relieved  from  their  arduous  duty  by  a  military  band  at  the 
head  of  a  marching  regiment. 

Give  me  the  bar  though.  1  don't  mean  the  bar-room,  though 
there  are  some  capital  songs  sung,  and  good  stories  told,  and  fiist- 
rate  rises  taken  out  of  green  ones,  in  that  bar-room  at  the  big 
hotel ;  but  I  mean  the  lawyers.  They  are  the  merriest  and  best 
fellows  everywhere.  They  fight  like  prize-boxers  in  public  and  be- 
fore ail  the  world,  and  shake  hands  when  they  set  to  and  after  it's 
over.  Preachers,  on  the  contrary,  write  anonymous  letters  in 
newspapers  or  let  fly  pamphlets  at  each  other  and  call  ugly  names. 
While  doctors  go  from  house  to  house  insinuating,  undermining, 
shrugging  shoulders,  turning  up  noses,  and  looking  as  amazed  as 
when  they  was  fust  born  into  the  world,  at  each  other's  prescrip- 
tions. Well,  politicians  are  dirty  birds  too  ;  they  get  up  all  sorts 
of  lies  against  each  other,  and  if  any  one  lays  an  egg,  tother 
swears  it  was  stole  out  of  his  nest.  But  lawyers  are  above  all 
these  tricks.  As  soon  as  court  is  ended,  off  they  go  arm-in-arm, 
as  if  they  had  both  been  fighting  on  one  side.  "  1  say,  Blowem, 
that  was  a  capital  hit  of  yours,  making  old  Gurdy  swear  he  was 
king  of  the  mountains." 

"  Not  half  as  good  as  yours,  Monk,  telling  the  witness  he 
couldn't  be  a  partner,  for  the  plaintiff  had  put  in  all  the  '  stock  in 
hand,'  and  he  had  only  put  in  his  '  stock  in  feet.'  " 

They  are  full  of  stories  too,  tragic  as  well  as  comic,  picked  up  in 
the  circuits. 

"Jones,  do  you  know  McFarlane  of  Barney's  River,  a  Presby- 
terian clergyman]  He  told  me  he  was  once  in  a  remote  district 
there  where  no  minister  had  ever  been,  and  visiting  the  house  of  a 
settler  of  Scotch  descent,  he  began  to  examine  the  children. 

"  '  Well,  my  man,'  said  he,  patting  on  the  shoulder  a  stout  junk 
of  a  boy  of  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  '  Can  you  tell  me  what  is 
the  chief  end  of  man  ?' 

"  '  Yes,  Sir,'  said  he.     '  To  pile  and  burn  brush.'* 

"  '  No,  it  aint,'  said  his  sister. 

*  In  clearing  woodland,  after  the  trees  are  chopped  down  and  cut  into  con- 
venient sizes  for  handling,  they  are  piled  into  heaps  and  burned. 

n* 


250  HOLDING     UP     THE     MIKKOR. 

" '  Oh,  but  it  is  though,'  replied  the  boy,  '  for  father  told  me  so 
himself.' 

"  '  No,  no,'  saicl  the  minister,  '  it's  not  that ;  but  perhaps,  my 
dear,'  addressing  the  girl,  'you  can  tell  me  what  it  is?' 

" '  Oh,  yes,  Sir,'  said  she,  '  1  can  tell  you,  and  so  could  John,  but 
he  never  will  think  before  he  speaks.' 

'"Well,  what  is  it,  dear?' 

"  '  Why,  the  chief  end  of  man,  Sir,  is  his  head  and  shoulders.' 

"  '  Oh,'  said  a  little  lassie  that  was  listening  to  the  conversation, 

if  you  know  all  these  things,  Sir,  can  you  tell  me  if  Noah  had  any 

butterflies  in   the  ark?     1   wonder  how  in  the  world   he  ever  got 

hold  of  them  !    Many  and  many  a  beauty  have  I  chased  all  day,  and 

I  never  could  catch  one  yet.'  " 

"1  can  tell  you  a  better  one  than  that,"  says  Larry  Hilliard. 
"Do  you  recollect  old  Hardwood,  our  under-sheriff?  He  has  a 
very  beautiful  daughter,  and  she  was  married  last  week  at  St. 
Paul's  Church,  to  a  lieutenant  in  the  navy.  There  was  such  an  im- 
mense crowd  present  (for  they  were  considered  the  handsomest 
couple  ever  married  there)  that  she  got  so  confused  she  could 
hardly  get  through  the  responses.  When  the  archdeacon  said, 
'  Will  }ou  have  this  man  to  be  your  wedded  husband  ?' 

"  '  Yes,'  she  said,  and  made  a  slight  pause,  and  then  became^be- 
wildered  and  got  into  her  catechism.  '  Yes,'  she  said,  '  By  God's 
grace  I  will,  and  I  humbly  thank  my  Heavenly  Father  fur  having 
brought  me  to  this  state  of  salvation.' 

"  It  was  lucky  she  spoke  low,  and  that  the  people  didn't  dis- 
tinctly hear  her,  but  it  nearly  choaked  the  parson." 

"Talking  of  church  anecdotes,"  says  Lawyer  Martin,  "reminds 
me  of  old  Parson  Byles,  of  St.  John's,  New  Brunswick.  Before 
the  American  rebellion,  he  was  rector  at  Boston,  and  he  had  a  cu- 
rate who  always  preached  against  the  Roman  Catholics.  It  tickled 
the  Puritans,  but  didn't  injure  the  Papists,  for  there  were  none 
there  at  that  time.  For  three  successive  Sundays  he  expounded 
the  text,  'And  Peter's  wife's  mother  lay  ill  of  a  fever.' 

"  From  which  he  inferred  priests  ought  to  marry.  Shortly  after 
that  the  bell  was  tolling,  and  somebod)  asked  Dr.  Byles  who  was 
dead  ? 

'•  Says  he,  and  he  looked  solemcoly,  shut  one  eye  and  winked 
with  the  other,  as  if  he  was  trying  to  shut  that  also  :  '  I  rather 
think  it  is  Peter's  wife's  mother,  for  she  has  been  ill  of  a  fever  for 
three  weeks.' " 

There  are  charms  in  these  little  ';  home  scenes,"  these  little 
detached  sketches  which  are  wholly  lost  in  a  large  landscape. 

There  is  one  very  redeeming  property  about  the  people. 
Although  they  differ  widely  in  politics,  I  infer  that  they  live  in  iha 
greatest  possible  harmony  together,  from  the  fact  that  they  speak 


II  O  ! .  D  I  X  O      UP     T  H  K     M  I  K  K  O  R  .  251 

of  each  other  like  members  of  the  same  family.  The  word  Mr.  is 
laid  aside,  as  too  cold  and  formal,  and  the  whole  Christian  name  as 
too  ceremonious.  Their  most  distinguished  men  speak  of  each 
other,  (and  the  public  follow  their  example.)  as  Joe  A,  or  Jim  B, 
or  Bill  0,  or  Tom  D,  or  Fitz  this,  or  Dick  that.  It  sounds  odd  to 
Grangers,  no  doubt ;  but  the  inference  that  may  be  drawn  from  it, 
is  one  of  great  amiability. 

Still,  in  holding  up  the  mirror,  hold  it  up  fairly,  and  take  in  al 
the  groups,  and  not  merely  those  that  excite  ridicule.  Halifax  has 
more  real  substantial  wealth  about  it  than  any  place  of  its  size  in 
America — wealth  not  amassed  by  reckless  speculation,  but  by 
judicious  enterprise,  persevering  industry,  and  consistent  economy. 
In  like  manner,  there  is  belter  society  in  it  than  in  any  similar 
American  or  colonial  town.  A  man  must  know  the  people  to  ap- 
preciate them.  He  must  not  merely  judge  by  those  whom  he  is 
accustomed  to  meet  at  the  social  board,  for  they  are  not  always 
the  bust  specimens  anywhere;  but  by  those  also  who  prefer  retire- 
ment, and  a  narrower  circle,  and  rather  avoid  general  society,  as 
not  suited  to  their  tastes.  The  character  of  its  mercantile  mer 
stands  very  high,  and  those  that  are  engaged  in  professional  pur 
suits  are  distinguished  for  their  ability  and  integrity.  In  shoit,  a.- 
a  .colonist,  Squire,  you  may  at  least  be  satisfied  to  hear  from  a 
stranger  like  me,  that  they  contrast  so  favorably  with  those  who 
are  sent  officially  among  them  from  England,  that  they  need  not  be 
ashamed  to  see  themselves  grouped  with  the  best  of  them,  in  the 
same  mitror. 

Yes,  yes,  Squire,  every  place  has  its  queer  people,  queer  talk, 
and  queer  grouping.  1  draw  what  is  before  me  and  I  can't  go 
wrong.  Now,  it  the  sketcher  introduces  his  own  person  into  his 
f<  >re<>rounds,  and  1  guess  I  figure  in  all  mine  as  large  as  life,  (for 
like  a  respeetabie  man  I  never  forget  myself,)  he  must  take  care 
he  has  a  goou  likeness  of  his  skuldiferous  head,  as  well  as  a  flattering 
one.  Now,  you  may  call  it  crackin  and  braggin,  and  all  that  sort 
of  a  thing,  if  you  please,  but  1  must  say,  1  allow  that  J  look,  sit, 
walk,  stand,  eat,  drink,  smoke,  think,  and  talk,  aye  and  brag  too, 
like  a  Yankee  clockmaker,  don't  you]  Yes,  there  is  a  decided  and 
manifest  improvement  in  the  appearance  of  this  province.  When 
1  say  the  province,  I  don't  refer  to  Halifax  alone,  though  there  are 
folks  there,  that  think  it  stands  for  and  represents  the  whole  colony. 
1  mean  what  1  say  in  using  that  expression,  which  extends  to  the 
country  at  large — and  I  am  glad  to  see  this  change,  for  1  like  it. 
And,  there  is  a  sti.l  more  decided  and  manifest  improvement  in  the 
people,  and  I  am  glad  of  that  too.  for  1  like  them  also.  Now.  I'll 
tell  you  one  great  reason  of  this  alteration  B.ue-nose  has  seen 
himself  as  other  folks  see  him,  he  has  had  •'  t/te  mirror  held  up  to 
him.'' 


252  THE     BUNDLE     OF     6  TICKS. 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
THE  BUND;.E  OF  STICKS. 

I  HAD  liai  ily  entered  these  remarks  in  my  Journal,  and  ascended 
the  companion-ladder,  when  the  Doctor  joined  me  in  my  quarter, 
deck  walk,  and  said,  "Mr.  Slick,  what  is  your  opinion  of  the  state 
of  these  North  American  colonies." 

What  a  curious  thing  these  coincidences  are,  Squire,  aint  they? 
.How  often  when  you  are  speaking  of  a  man,  he  unexpectedly  makes 
his  appearance,  don't  he?  or  if  you  are  thinking  of  a  subject,  the 
person  who  is  with  you  starts  the  same  topic,  or  if  you  are  a  going 
to  say  a  thing,  he  takes  as  we  say  the  very  words  <>ut  of  your 
mouth.  It  is  something  more  than  accident  that,  but  what  is  it  ? 
Is  it  animal  magnetism,  or  what  is  it  ?  Well,  1  leave  you  to  answer 
that  question,  for  I  can't. 

"  Their  growth  beats  all.  The  way  they  are  going  ahead  is  a 
caution  to  them  that  live  in  Sleepy  Hollow,  a  quiet  little  place  the 
English  call  Downing  Street.  It  astonishes  them  as  a  young  turkey 
does  a  hen  that  has  hatched  it,  thinking  it  was  a  chicken  of  her  own. 
She  don't  know  what  in  the  world  to  make  of  the  great  long-legged, 
long-bodied  crittur,  that  is  six  times  as  large  as  herself,  that  hus 
cheeks  as  red  as  if  it  drank  brandy,  an  imperial  as  large  as  a  Rus- 
sian dragoon,  eats  all  the  food  of  the  poultry-yard,  takes  a  shoe-king 
sight  of  nursing  when  it  is  young,  and  gets  as  sarcy  as  the  devil 
when  it  grows  up." 

"  Yes, '  said  he,  "  I  am  aware  of  its  growth  ;  but  what  do  you 
suppose  is  the  destiny  of  British  North  America1?" 

k<  Oh,''  sais  I,  "  [  could  tell  you  if  I  was  Colonial  minister,  be- 
cause 1  should  then  have  the  power  to  guide  that  destiny.  I  know 
tull  well  what  ought  to  be  done,  and  the  importance  of  doing  it 
soon,  but  1  am  not  in  the  position  to  give  them  the  right  direction. 
No  English  statesmen  have  the  information,  the  time,  or  the  incli- 
nation to  meddle  with  the  subject.  To  get  rid  of  the  bother  of 
them,  they  have  given  up  all  control  and  said  to  them,  'there  is 
responsible  government  for  you,  now  tortle  off  hum,  and  manage 
your  own  affairs.'  Yes,  yes,  so  far  so  good — they  can  manage  their 
.  own  domestic  matters,  but  who  is  to  manage  their  foreign  affairs,  as 
I  said  wunst  to  a  member  of  parliament.  Thev  have  outgrown 
colonial  dependence  ;  their  minority  is  ended  ;  their  clerkship  is 
out;  they  are  of  age  now;  they  never  did  well  in  your  house; 
they  were  put  out  to  nurse  at  a  distance  ;  they  had  their  schooling ; 
they  learnt  figures  early  ;  they  can  add  and  multiply  faster  than 
you  can}tosave  your  soul  ;  and  now  they  are  uneasy.  They  have 


THE     BUNDLE     OF     STICKS.  253 

your  name,  for  they  are  your  children,  but  they  are  younger  sons. 
The  estate  and  all  the  honors  go  to  the  eldest,  who  resides  at  home. 
They  know  but  little  about  their  parents,  farther  than  that  their 
bills  have  been  liberally  paid,  but  they  have  no  personal  acquain- 
tance \vith  you.  You  are  tiivd  of  maintaining  them,  and  they  have 
too  much  pride  and  too  much  energy  to  continue  to  be  a  burden  to 
you.  They  c,-m  and  they  will  do  for  themselves. 

•*  Have  you  ever  thought  of  setting  them  up  in  business  on.their 
own  account,  or  of  fating  them  into  partnership  with  yourself?  In 
the -course  of  nature  they  must  form  some  connexion  soon.  Shall 
they  seek  it  with  you  or  the  States,  or  intermarry  among  them- 
selves, and  begin  the  world  on  their  own  hook  ?  These  are  impor- 
tant questions,  and  they  must  be  answered  soon.  Have  you  ac- 
quired their  confidence  and  affection  1  What  has  been  your  manner 
to  them?  Do  you  treat  them  like  your  other  younger  children 
that  remain  at  home  ?  Them  you  put  into  your  army  and  navy, 
place  a  sword  in  their  hands  and  say,  distinguish  yourselves,  and 
the  highest  rewards  are  open  to  you,  or  you  send  them  to  the 
church  or  the  bar,  and  say  a  mitre  or  a  con  met  shall  be  the  prize 
to  contend  for.  If  you  prefer  diplomacy,  you  shall  be  attache  to 
your  elder  brother.  I  will  place  the  ladder  before  you  ;  ascend  it. 
If  you  like  politics,  I  will  place  you  in  parliament,  and  if  you  have 
not  talents  sufficient  for  the  House  of  Commons,  you  shall  go  out 
as  governor  of  one  of  our  colonies.  Those  appointments  belong  of 
right  to  them,  but  they  can't  help  themselves  at  present.  Get  one 
while  you  can. 

"  Have  you  done  this,  or  anything  like  it  for  your  children 
abroad  I  If  you  have,  perhaps  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  furnish 
me  with  some  names  that  I  may  mention  them  when  I  hear  you 
accused  of  neglect.  You  are  very  hospitable,  and  very  considerate 
to  strangers.  The  representative  of  any  little  insignificant  German 
state,  of  the  size  of  a  Canadian  township,  has  a  place  assigned  him 
on  state  occasions.  Do  you  ever  shew  the  same  attention  to  the 
delegate  of  a  colony,  of  infinitely  more  extent  and  value  than  even 
Ireland!  There  can't  be  a  doubt  you  have,  though  I  have  never 
heard  of  it.  Such  little  trifles  are  matters  of  course,  but  still  as 
great  interests  are  at  stake,  perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  notice 
such  things  occasionally  in  the  Gazette,  for  distant  and  humble 
relations  are  always  touchy. 

"  Ah,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  things  can't  and  won't  remain  long  as 
thfij  are.  England  has  three  things  among  which  to  choose,  for  her 
North  American  colonies : — First :  Incorporation  with  herself,  and 
representation  in  Parliament.  Secondly  :  Independence.  Thirdly  : 
Annexation  with  the  States.  Instead  of  deliberating  and  selecting 
what  will  be  most  conducive  to  the  interest  of  herself  and  her 
dependencies,  sh<>  is  allowing  things,  to  take  their  chance.  Now. 


254  THE     BUNDLE     OF     STICKS. 

this  is  all  very  well  in  matters  ever  which  we  have  no  control,  be- 
cause, Providence  directs  things  better  than  we  can ;  but  if  one  of 
these  three  alternatives  is. infinitely  better  than  the  other,  and  it  is 
in  our  power  to  adopt  ir,  it  is  the  height  of  foily  not  to  do  so.  1  know 
it  is  said,  for  1  have  often  heard  it  myself,  why  we  can  but  lose  the 
colonies  at  last.  Pardon  me,  you  can  do  more  than  that,  for  you 
can  lose  their  affections  also.  If  the  partnership  is  to  be  dissolved, 
it  had  better  be  done  by  mutual  consent,  and  it  would  be  for  the 
interest  of  both  that  you  should  part  friends.  You  didn't  shake 
hands  with,  but  fists  at  us,  when  we  separated.  We  had  a  stand- 
up  fight,  and  you  got  licked,  and  wounds  were  given,  that  the  best 
part  of  a  century  hasn't  healed,  and  wounds  that  will  leave  tender 
spots  for  ever,  so  don't  talk  nonsense. 

"  Now,  Doctor,  mark  my  words.  I  say  again,  things  won't 
remain  long  as  they  are.  I  am  glad  I  have  you  to  talk  to  instead 
of  the  Squire,  for  he  always  sais,  I  am  chockfull  of  crotchets,  and 
brim  full  of  brag.  Now,  it  is  easy,  we  all  know,  to  proph*  cy  a 
thing  after  it  has  happened,  but  if  I  foretell  a  thing  and  it  comes 
out  true,  if  I  haven't  a  right  to  brag  of  my  skill,  I  have  a  right  to 
boast  that  1  guessed  right  at  all  events.  Now,  when  1  set  on  toot 
a  scheme  for  carrying  the  Atlantic  mail  in  steamers,  and  calculated 
all  the  distances  and  chances,  and  shewed  them  Bristol  folks,  (fur 
1  went  to  that  place  on  purpose,)  that  it  was  shorter  by  thirty-six 
miles'  to  come  to  Halifax,  and  then  go  to  New  York,  than  to  <;o  to 
New  York  direct,  they  just  laughed  at  me,  and  so  did  the  English 
Government.  They  said  it  couldn't  be  snorter  in  the  nature  of 
things.  There  was  a  captain  in  the  navy  to  London  too,  who  said, 
1  Mr.  Slick,  you  are  wrong,  and  1  think  1  ought  to  know  something 
abjut  it,'  giving  a  toss  of  his  head.  '  Well,'  sais  I,  with  another 
toss  of  mine,  'J  think  you  ought  too,  and  1  am  sorry  you  don't, 
that's  all.' 

"  Theu  the  Squire,  said : — '  Why  how  you  talk,  Mr.  Slick  ! 
Recollect,  if  you  please,  that  Doctor  Lardner  says  that  steam  won't 
do  to  cross  the  Atlantic,  and  he  is  a  gre'at  gun.' 

•' '  Well,'  sais  I,  '  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  what  Lardner  says,  or  any 
other  locomotive  lecturer  under  the  light  of  the  living  sun.  If  a 
steamer  can  go  agin  a  stream,  and  a  plaguy  strong  one  too,  two 
thousand  five  hundred  miles  up  the  Mississippi,  why  in  natur,  can't 
it  be  fixed  so  as  go  across  the  Atlantic.' 

•'  Well,  some  time  after  that,  my  second  Clockmaker  came  out 
in  London,  and  sais  I,  I'll  stand  or  fall  by  my  opinion,  right  or 
wrong,  and  I  just  put  it  body  and  breeches  alf  down  in  figures  in 
that  book.  Weil,  that  set  inquiries  on  foot,  folks  began  to 
calculate — a  tender  was  made  and  accepted,  and  now  steam" across 
the  Atlantic  is  a  fixed  fact,  and  an  old  story.  Our  folks  warn't 
jver  pleased  about  it,  they  con  salted  1  shouid  have  told  them  first 


THE     BUNDLE     OF     STICKS.  !>o5 

so  they  might  have  taken  the  lead  in  it,  as  they  like  to  go  ahead 
of  ihe  British  in  all  things,  and  I  wish  to  goodness  I  had,  lor  thanks 
are  better  nor  jeers  at  any  time. 

"  WeM,  I  was  right  there,  you  see.  So  on  this  subject,  I  have 
told  Squire,  and  them  who  ought  to  know  something  of  the  colonies 
they  rule,  over  and  over  again,  and  warned  government  that  some- 
thing was  wanting  to  place  these  provinces  on  a  proper  permanent 
footing ;  that  I  knew  the  teriiper  of  colony  folks  better  than  they 
did,  and  you  will  find  in  my  Journals  the  subject  often  mentioned. 
But  no,  a  debate  on  a  beer  bill,  or  a  metropolitan  bridge,  or  a 
constabulary  act,  is  so  pressing,  there  is  no  time.  Well,  sure 
enough,  that's  all  come  true.  First,  the  Canadian  league  started 
up,  it  was  a  feverish  symptom,  and  it  subsided  by  good  treatment, 
without  letting  blood.  Last  winter  it  was  debated  in  the  Legisla- 
ture here,  and  the  best  and  ablest  speeches  made  on  it,  ever  heard 
in  British  America,  and  infinitely  superior  to  the  great  majority  of 
those  uttered  in  the  House  of  Commons.*  Do  you  suppose  for  a 
moment  that  proud-spirited,  independent,  able  men  like  those 
members,  will  long  endure  the  control  of  a  Colonial  minister,  who, 
they  feel,  is  as  much  below. i hem  in  talent,  as  by  accident  he  may 
be  above  them  in  rank  ?  No,  Sir,  the  day  is  past.  The  form  of 
provincial  government  is  changed,  and  with  it  provincial  dependence 
also.  When  we  become  men,  we  must  put  away  childish  things. 

"  There  is  a  sense  of  soreness  that  is  uncomfortably  felt  by  a 
coloni>t  now  when  he  surveys  our  condition,  and  that  of  English- 
men, and  compares  his  own  with  it.  lie  can  hardly  tell  you  what 
he  wants,  he  has  yet  no  definite  plan  ;  but  he  desires  something 
that  will  place  him  on  a  perfect  equa'ity  with  either.  When  I  was 
in  Europe  lately,  I  spent  a  day  at  Richmond,  with  one  of  them  1 
had  known  out  in  America.  He  was  a  Tory,  too,  and  a  pretty 
staunch  one,  I  tell  you. 

"Thinks  I  to  myself,  'I'll  put  you  through  your  paces  a  little, 
my  young  sucking  Washington,  for  fear  you  will  get  out  of  practice 
when  you  get  back.' 

"So,  sais  I,  'how  do  you  get  on  now?  I  suppose  responsible 
government  has  put  an  end  to  all  complaints,  hain't  it?' 

"  Sais  he,  '  Mr.  Slick,'  and  I  saw  he  felt  sore,  for  he  looked  like 
it,  and  talked  like  it;  'Mr.  Slick,' said  he,  kinder  niblin  at  the 
question,  '  I  have  no  remonstrance  to  make.  There  is  something 
very  repulsive  in  a  complaint.  I  can't  bear  the  sound  of  it  my- 
self. It  should  never  be  pronounced,  but  in  the  ear  of  a  doctor  or 
a  pol'ce  magistrate.  Your  man  with  a  grievance  is  everywhere 

*  All  these  speeches  are  well  worth  reading,  especially  those  of  Mr.  Howe, 
Mr.  Johnston,  and  Mr.  M.  Wilkins.  That  of  the  former  gentleman  is  incompa- 
rably superior  to  any  one  delivered  during  the  last  session  of  the  Imperial 
Parliament. 


256  THE     BUNDLE     OF     STICKS. 

voted  a  bore.  If  he  goes  to  the  Colonial  office  with  one,  that 
stout  gentlemen  at  the  door,  the  porter,  who  has  the  keys  of  that 
realm  of  knowledge  and  bliss,  and  knows  as  much,  and  has  as  many 
airs  as  his  master,  soon  receives  an  order  not  to  admit  him. 

"  '  Worn  out  with  fatigue  and  disappointment,  the  unfortunate 
suitor  finds  at  last  his  original  grievance  merged  in  the  greater  one, 
that  he  can  obtain  no  hearir.g  and  no  redress,  and  he  returns  to  his 
own  province,  like  Franklin,  or  the  Australian  delegate,  with 
thoughts  of  deep  revenge,  and  visions  of  a  glorious  revolution  that 
shall  set  his  countrymen  free  from  foreign  dominion.  He  goes  an 
humble  suppliant,  he  returns  an  implacable  reliel.  The  restless 
Pole,  who  would  rather  play  the  part  of  a  freebooting  officer,  than 
an  honest  farmer,  and  who  prefers  even  Pegging  to  labor,  wanders 
over  Europe  and  America,  uttering  execrations  against  all  mon- 
archs  in  general,  and  his  own  in  particular,  and  when  you  shake 
your  head  at  his  oft-told  tale  of  fictitious  patriotism,  as  he  replaces 
his  stereotyped  memorial  in  his  pocket,  exhibits  the  handle  of  a 
stiletto,  with  a  savage  smile  of  unmistakeable  scoundrelism.' 

"  '  Poles  loom  large,'  sais  I,  '  in  the  fogs  of  London,  but  they 
dwindle  into  poor  sticks  with  us.' 

"  Pie  was  in  no  temper,  however,  to  laugh.  It  was  evident  he 
felt  deeply,  but  he  was  unwilling  to  exhibit  the  tender  spot.  'The 
world,  Sir,'  he  said,  'is  full  of  grievances.  Papineaifs  parliament 
mustered  ninety-two  of  them  at  one  time,  and  a  Fal  mouth  packet- 
ship  actually  foundered  with  its  shifting  cargo.  What  a  pity  it  is 
that  thi-ir  worthlessness,  and  lightness,  alone  caused  them  to  float. 
The  English,  who  reverse  every  wholesome  maxim,  in  this  instance 
pursued  their  usual  course.  The  sage  advice  parcere  xu/yec/is,  et 
debt'lare  superbos,  was  disregarded.  The  loyalists  suffered,  the  arro- 
gant and  turbulent  triumphed.  Every  house,  Sir,  in  the  kingdom 
is  infested  with  grievances.  Fathers  grieve  over  the  extravagances 
of  their  sons,  the  giddiness  of  their  daughters,  and  the  ceaseless 
murmurs  of  their  wives,  while  they  in  their  turn  unite  in  complain- 
ing of  parental  parsimony  and  meanness.  Social  intercourse  1  have 
long  since  given  up,  for  I  am  tired  of  tedious  narratives  of  the  de- 
linquencies of  servants  and  the  degeneracy  of  the  times.  I  prefer 
large  parties,  where,  although  you  know  the  smile  hides  the  peevish 
temper,  the  aching  heart,  the  jealous  fear,  and  the  wounded  pride ; 
yet  it  is  such  a  great  satisfaction  to  know  there  is  a  truce  to  com- 
plaints,  that  I  prefer  its  many  falsehoods  to  unceasing  wailings  over 
the  sad  realities  of  life.' 

"  This  was  no  answer,  but  something  to  bluff  me  off.  I  saw  he 
was  unwilling  to  speak  out,  and  that  it  was  a  mere  effort  to  button 
up  and  evade  the  subject.  So  to  draw  him  out,  I  said, 

"  '  Well,  there  is  one  thing  you  can  boast,  Canada  is  the  most 
valuable  and  beautiful  appendage  of  the  British  Crown.' 


THE     BUNDLE     Of     STICKS.  257 

"  '  England  may  boast  of  it  as  such,'  he  said,  '  but  I  have  no  right 
to  do  so.  I  prefer  being  one  of  the  pariahs  of  the  empire,  a  mere 
colonist,  having  neither  grade  nor  caste,  without  a  country  of  my 
own,  and  without  nationality.  I  am  an  humble  man,  and  when  I 
am  asked  whore  I  corne  from,  readily  answer  the  Chaudiere  River. 
Where  is  that  ?  Out  of  the  world  1  Extra  flamantia.  limi/ta  mundi. 
"What  is  the  name  of  your  country  ?  It  is  not  a  country,  it  is  only 
a  place.  It  is  better  to  have  no  flag  than  a  borrowed  one.  If  I 
had  one  I  should  have  to  defend  it.  If  it  were  wrested  from  me  I 
should  be  disgraced,  while  my  victorious  enemy  would  be  thanked 
by  the  Imperial  legislature,  and  rewarded  by  his  sovereign.  If  I 
were  triumphant,  the  affair  would  be  deemed  too  small  to  merit  a 
notice  in  the  Gazette.  He  who  called  out  the  militia  and  quelled 
amid  a  shower  of  balls,  the  late  rebellion,  was  knighted.  He  who 
assented  amid  a  shower  of  eggs  to  a  bill  to  indemnify  the  rebels, 
was  created  an  earl.  Now  to  pelt  a  governor  general  with  eggs,  is 
an  overt  act  of  treason,  for  it  is  an  attempt  to  throw  off  the  yoke. 
If,  therefore,  he  was  advanced  in  the  peerage  for  remunerating 
traitors  for  their  losses,  he  ought  now  to  assent  to  another  act  for 
reimbursing  the  expenses  of  the  exhausted  stores  of  the  poultry 
yards,  and  be  made  a  marquis,  unless  the  British  see  a  difference 
between  a  rebel  mob,  and  an  indignant  crowd,  between  those  whose 
life  has  been  spent  in  hatching  mischief,  and  those  who  desired  to 
scarce  the  foul  birds  from  their  nests. 

"  '  If  that  man  had  been  a  colonist,  the  dispatch  marked  'private' 
would  have  said,  k  It  sarved  you  right,'  whereas  it  announced  to 
him,  '  you  are  one  of  us,'  and  to  mark  our  approbation  of  your 
conduct,  you  may  add  one  of  these  savory  missiles  to  your  coat  of 
anus,  that  others  may  be  egged  on  to  do  their  duty.  Indeed  we 
couldn't  well  have  a  flag  of  our  own.  The  Americans  have  a  very 
appropriate  and  elegant  one,  containing  stripes  emlbematical  of 
their  slaves,  and  stars  to  represent  their  *free  states,  while  a  Con- 
necticut goose  typifies  the  good  cheer  of  thanksgiving  day.  It  is 
true  we  have  the  honor  of  fighting  under  that  of  England  ;  but 
th«-re  is,  as  we  have  seen,  this  hard  condition  annexed  to  it,  we  must 
consent  to  be  taxed,  to  reimburse  the  losses  of  those  whom  by  our 
gallantry  we  subdue.  If  we  take  Sebastopol,  we  must  pay  for  the 
damage  we  have  done.  We  are  not  entitled  to  a  separate  flag, 
ind  1  am  afraid  if  we  had  one  we  should  be  subject  to  ridicule.  A 
pure  white  ground  would  prefigure  our  snow  drifts;  a  gull  with 
outspread  wings,  our  credulous  qualities;  and  a  few  discolored 
eggs,  portray  our  celebrated  missiles.  But  what  sort  of  a  flag 
would  that  be?  No,  Sir,  these  provinces  should  be  united,  and 
they  would  from  their  territorial  extent,  their  commercial  ente>- 
prise,  their  mineral  wealth,  their  wonderful  agricultural  productions, 
ami  Jibov-  all,  th.-r  intelligent,  industrious,  and  still  loyal  popul*- 


L>58  T  H  K     B  L'  N  D  i.  1C     01-      STICKS. 

tion,  in  time  form  a  nation  second  to  none  on  earth  ;  until  tnen  1 
pivfer  to  be  a  citizen  of  the  world. 

"''  I  once  asked  an  Indian  where  he  lived.  T  meant  of  course  where 
his  camp  was,  but  the  question  was  too  broad  and  puzzled  him. 
Stretching  out  his  arm  and  describing  a  circle  with  his  heel,  he 
said,  '  1  live  in  all  these  woods  !'  Like  him,  1  Live  in  all  this  world. 
Those  who,  like  the  English  and  Americans,  have  appropriated  so 
large  a  portion  of  it  to  themselves,  may  severally  boast,  if  they 
think  proper,  of  their  respective  governments  and  territories.  My 
boast,  Sir,  is  a  peculiar  one,  that  I  have  nothing  to  boast  of.' 

'"If such  are  your  view'V  1  said.  'I  must  say  I  do  not  under- 
stand that  absurd  act  of  firing  your  parliament  house.  It  is,  I 
assure  you,  reprobated  everywhere.  Our  folks  say  your  party 
commenced  as  old  Hunkers*  and  ended  as  Barnburners."1 

"That  remark  threw  him  off  his  guard;  he  rose  up  greatly 
agitated ;  his  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  he  extended  out  his  arm  as  if 
he  intended  by  gesticulation  to  give  full  force  to  what  he  was  about 
to  say.  He  stood  in  this  attitude  for  a  moment  without  uttering 
a  word,  when  by  a  sudden  effort,  he  mastered  himself,  and  took  up 
his  hat  to  walk  out  on  the  terrace  and  recover  his  composure. 

"As  he  reached  the  door,  he  turned,  and  said  : 

"  '  The  assenting  to  that  infamous  indemnity  act,  Mr.  Slick,  and  the 
still  more  disreputable  manner  in  which  it  received  the  guberna- 
torial sanction,  has  produced  an  impression  in  Canada  that  no  loyal 
man — '  but  he  again  checked  himself  and  left  the  sentence  unfinish>  d. 

"  I  was  sorry  J  had  pushed  him  so  hard,  but  the  way  he  tried  to 
evade  the  subject  at  first,  the  bitterness  of  his  tone,  and  the  excite- 
ment ir:' ")  which  the  allusion  threw  him,  convinced  me,  that  the 
Eng.  ^n  neither  know  v\ho  their  real  friends  in  Canada  are,  nor  how 
to  retain  their  affections. 

"When  he  returned^I  said  to  him,  ;I  was  only  jesting  about 
your  having  no  grievances  in  Canada,  and  I  regret  having  agitated 
you.  I  agree  with  you,  however,  that  it  is  of  no  use  to  remonstrate 

*  "  We  have  been  requested  to  give  a  definition  of  this  term  '  old  Hunkers.' 
Party  nicknames  are  not  often  logically  justified  ;  and  we  can  only  say  that 
that  section  of  the  late  dominant  party  in  this  State  (the  democratic)  which 
claims  to  be  the  more  radical,  progressive,  reformatory.  &c..  bestowed  the  ap- 
pellation of  '  Old  Hunker'  on  the  other  section,  to  indicate  that  it  was  distin- 
guished by  opposite  qualities  from  those  claimed  for  itself.  \Yebelieve  the  title 
was  also  intended  to  indicate  that  those  on  whom  it  was  conferred  had  an  appe- 
tite for  a  large  '  hunk'  of  the  spoils,  though  we  never  couid  discover  that  they 
were  peculiar  in  that.  On  the  other  hand,  the  opposite  school  was  termed 
'Barnburners,'  in  allusion  to  the  story  of  an  old  Dutchman,  who  relieved  him- 
self of  rats  by  burning  his  barns,  which  they  infested — just  like  exterminating 
all  banks  aud  corporations  to  root  out  the  abuses  connected  therewith.  The 
fitness  or  unfitness  of  these  family  terms  of  endearment,  is  none  of  our  business  ' 

AT«w  YOIK  TPIBUNV 


THE     B  U  N  D  I.  K     OF     STICKS.  259 

with  tho  English  public.  They  won't  listen  to  you.  If  you  want 
to  be  heard,  attract  their  attention,  in  the  first  instance,  by  talking 
of  their  own  immediate  concerns,  and  while  they  are  regarding  you 
with  intense  interest  and  anxiety,  by  a  sleight  of  hand  shift  the  dis- 
solving view,  and  substitute  a  sketch  of  your  own.  For  instance, 
snys  you,  '  How  is  it  the  armv  in  the  Crimea  had  no  tents  in  the 
autumn,  and  no  huts  in  the  winter — the  hospitals  no  fittings,  and 
the  doctors  no  nurses  or  medicines  ?  How  is  it  disease  and  neglect 
have  killed  more  men  than  the  enemy  ?  Why  is  England  the 
laughing-stock  of  Russia,  and  the  butt  of  French  and  Yankee  ridi- 
cule ?  and  how  does  it  happen  this  country  is  filled  with  grief  and 
humiliation  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other?  I  will  tell  you. 
These  affairs  were  managed  by  a  branch  of  the  Colonial  Office. 
The  minister  for  that  department  said  to  the  army,  as  he  did  to  the 
distant  provinces,  'Manage  your  own  affairs,  and  don't  bother  us.' 
Then  pause  and  say,  slowly  and  emphatically,  '  You  now  have  a 
taste  of  IP  hat  we  have  endured  in  the  colonies.  The  same  incompe- 
tency  has  ruled  over  both.1 

"'Good  heavens,'  said  he,  'Mr.  Slick,  I  wish  you  was  one  of  us.' 

"'Thank  you  for  the  compliment,' sais  I.  'I  feel  flattered,  1 
assure  you  ;  but,  excuse  me,  I  have  no  such  ambition.  1  am  con- 
tent to  be  a  humble  Yankee  clockmaker.  A  Colonial  Office  in 
which  there  is  not  a  single  man  that  ever  saw  a  colony,  is  nut  exactly 
the  ijoventment  to  suit  me.  The  moment  I  found  my  master  knew 
less  than  I  did,  I  quit  his  school,  and  set  up  for  myself? 

**  Yes,  my  friend,  the  English  want  to  have  the  mirror  held  up  to 
them  ;  but  that  is  your  business  and  not  mine.  It  would  be  out  of 
place  for  me.  I  am  a  Yankee,  and  politics  are  not  my  line  ;  I  have 
no  turn  for  them,  arid  I  don't  think  I  have  the  requisite  knowledge 
of  the  subject  for  discussing  it ;  but  you  have  both,  and  I  wonder 
you  don't.  » 

"  Now,  Doctor,  you  may  judge  from  that  conversation,  and  the 
deep  feeling  it  exhibits,  that  men's  thoughts  are  wandering  in  new 
channels.  The  great  thing  for  a  statesman  is  to  direct  them  to  the 
right  one.  •  1  have  said  there  were  three  courses  to  be  considered  : 
first,  incorporation  with  England  ;  secondly,  independence ;  thirdly, 
annexation.  The  subject  is  too  large  for  a  quarter-deck  walk,  so  I 
will  only  say  a  few  words  more.  Let's  begin  with  annexation  first. 
The  thinking,  reflecting  people  among  us,  don't  want  these  pro- 
vinces. We  guess  we  are  big  enough  already,  and  nothing  but  our 
great,  rivers,  canals,  railroads,  and  telegraphs  (which  like  skewers 
in  a  round  of  beef,  fasten  the  unwieldly  mass  together,)  could 
possibly  "keep  us  united.  Without  them  we  should  fall  to  pieces. 
in  no  time.  It's  as  much  as  they  can  do  to  keep  all  tight  and  snug 
now  ;  but  them  skewers  nor  no  others  can  tie  a  greater  bulk  than 
we  have.  Well,  1  don't  think  colonists  want  to  be  swamped  in  <m» 


260  THE      B  U  N  I)  I,  K     OF     STICKS. 

vast  republic  either.  So  their  ain't  no  great  danger  from  that, 
unless  the  devil  gits  into  us  both,  which,  if  a  favorable  chance 
offered,  he  is  not  onlikely  to  do.  So  let  that  pass.  Secondly,  as  to 
incorporation.  That  is  a  grand  idea,  but  it  is  almost  too  grand  for 
John  Bull's  head,  and  a  little  grain  too  large  for  his  pride.  There 
are  difficulties,  and  serious  ones,  in  the  way.  It  would  ivquire  par- 
ticipation in  the  legislature,  which  would  involve  knocking  off  some 
of  the  Irish  brigade  to  make  room  for  your  members;  and  there 
would  be  a  hurrush  at  that,  as  O'Connell  used  to  say,  that  would 
bang  Banaghar.  It  would  also  involve  an  invasion  of  the  upper 
house,  for  colonists  won't  take  half  a  loaf  now,  I  tell  you  ;  which 
would  make  some  o'  those  gouty  old  lords  fly  round  and  scream 
like  Mother  Gary's  chickens  in  a  gale  of  wind  ;  and  then  there 
would  be  the  story  of  the  national  debt,  and  a  participation  in  im- 
perial taxes  to  adjust,  and  so  on,  but  none  of  these  difficulties  are 
insuperable. 

"  A  statesman  with  a  clever  head,  a  sound  judgment,  and  a  good 
heart,  could  adjust  a  scheme  that  would  satisfy  all;  at  least  it  would 
satisfy  colonists  by  its  justice,  and  reconcile  the  peers  and  the 
people  of  England,  by  its  expediency,  for  the  day  Gr.-at  Britain 
parts  with  these  colonie>,  depend  upon  it,  she  descends  in  the  scale 
of  nations  most  rapidly.  India  she  may  lose  any  day,  for  it  is  a 
government  of  opinion  only.  Australia  will  emancipate  itself,  ere 
long,  but  these  provinces  she  may  and  ought  to  retain. 

"  Thirdly,  independence.  This  is  better  for  her  than  annexation 
by  a  long  chalk,  and  better  for  the  colonies  too.  if  I  was  allowed  to 
spend  my  opinion  on  it ;  but  if  that  is  decided  upon,  something 
must  be  done  soon.  The  wny  ought  to  be  prepared  for  it  by  an 
immediate  federative  and  legislative  union  of  them  all.  It  is  of  no 
use  to  consult  their  governors,  they  don't  and  they  can't  know  any- 
thing of  the  country  but  its  roads,  lakes,  rivers,  and  towns;  but  of 
the  people  they  know  nothing  whatever.  You  might  as  well  ask 
the  steeple  of  a  wooden  church  whether  the  sill  that  rests  on  the 
stone  foundation  is  sound.  They  are  too  big,  according  to  their 
own  absurd  notions,  too  small  in  the  eyes  of  colonists,  and  too  far 
removed  and  unbending  to  know  anything  about  it.  What  can  a 
man  learn  in  five  years,  except  the  painful  tact  that  he  knew  nothing 
when  he  came,  and  knows  as  little  when  he  leaves.  He  can  form 
a  better  estimate  of  himself  than  when  he  landed,  and  returns  an 
humbler,  but  not  a  wiser  man  ;  but  that's  all  his  school  in  ends  in. 
No,  &ir-ce,  it's  only  men  like  you  and  me  who  know  the  ins  and 
outs  of  the  people  here." 

"  Don't  say  me,"  said  the  Doctor,  "for  goodness  sake,  for  I  know 
nothing  about  the  inhabitants  of  these  wroods  and  waters,  but  thf 
birds,  the  fish,  and  the  beasts." 

'•Don't  you    include   politicians,''   said    I,    "of   all  shades   and 


THE     BUNDLE     OF     STICKS.  261 

jolors,  under  the  last  genus?  because  I  do, there  are  regular  beast* 
of  prey." 

Well,  he  laughed,  he  said  he  didn't  know  nothing  about  them. 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  I  ain't  so  modest,  I  can  tell  you.  for  I  do  know. 
I  am  a  clockmaker,  and  understand  machinery.  I  know  all  about 
the  wheels,  pulleys,  pendulum,  balances,  and  so  on,  tlie  length  of 
the  chain,  and  what  is  best  of  all,  the  way  to  wind  'em  up,  set  Vm 
a  going,  and  make  'em  keep  time.  Now,  Doctor,  I'll  tell  you  what 
neither  the  English,  nor  the  Yankees,  nor  the  colonists  themselves 
know  anything  of,  and  that  is  about  the  extent  and  importance  of 
these  North  American  provinces  under  British  rule.  Take  your 
pencil  now,  and  write  down  a  few  facts  I  will  give  you,  and  when 
you  are  alone  meditating,  just  chew  on  'em. 

"First — there  are  four  millions  of  square  miles  of  territory  in 
them,  whereas  all  Europe  has  but  three  millions  some  odd  hundred 
thousands,  and  our  almighty,  everlastin'  United  States  still  less  than 
thst  again.  Canada  alone  is  equal  in  size  to  Great  Britain,  France 
and  Prussia.  The  maritime  provinces  themselves  cover  a  space  as 
large  as  Holland,  Belgium,  Greece,  Portugal  and  Switzerland,  all 
put  together.  The  imports  for  1853,  were  between  ten  and  eleven 
millions,  and  the  exports,  (ships  sold  included)  between  nine  and 
ten  millions.  At  the  commencement  of  the  American  revolution, 
when  we  first  dared  the  English  to  fight  us,  we  had  but  two  and  a 
half,  these  provinces  now  contain  nearly  three,  and  in  a  half  a  cen- 
tury will  reach  the  enormous  amount  of  eighteen  millions  of  inha- 
bitants. The  increase  of  population  in  the  States  is  thirty-three 
per  cent.,  in  Canada  sixty-eight.  The  united  revenue  is  nearly  a 
million  and  a  half,  and  their  shipping  amounts  to  four  hundred  and 
fitly  thousand  tons. 

"  Now,  take  these  facts  and  see  what  an  empire  is  here,  surely 
the  best  in  climate,  soil,  mineral,  and  other  productions  in  the 
world,  and  peopled  by  such  a  race,  as  no  other  country  under 
heaven  can  produce.  No,  Sir.  here  are  the  bundle  of  sticks,  all  they 
want  is  to  be  well  united.  How  absurd  it  seems  to  us  Yankees, 
that  England  is  both  so  ignorant  and  so  blind  to  her  own  interests, 
as  not  to  give  her  attention  to  this  interesting  portion  of  the  empire, 
that  in  natural  and  commercial  wealth  is  of  infinitely  more  import 
ance  than  half  a  dozen  Wallachias  and  Moldavias,  and  in  loyalty, 
intelligence,  and  enterprise,  as  far  superior  to  turbulent  Ireland  a» 
it  is  possible  for  one  country  to  surpass  another.  However,  Doc 
tor,  it's  no  affair  of  mine.  I  hate  politics,  and  I  hate  talking  figures. 
Spoj-iu  we  try  a  cigar,  and  some  while  satin." 


20!i  TOWN    A  N  i    c  o  u  x  T  it  r . 

CHAPTER  XX. 
TOWN    AND    COUNTRY 

"  DOCTOK,"  sais  I,  as  we  ascended  the  deck  the  following  morn 
Ing,  "  I  can't  tell  you  how  1  have  enjoyed  these  incidental  runs  oil 
shore  I  have  had  during  my  cruise  in  the  '  Black  Hawk.'  1  am 
amazin  fond  of  the  country,  and  bein'  an  early  riser,  I  in:mage  to 
lose  none  of  its  charms.  I  like  to  see  the  early  streak  in  the  cast, 
and  look  on  the  glorious  sky  when  the  sun  rises.  I  like  everv 
thing  about  the  countn ,  and  the  people  that  live  in  it.  The  toun 
is  artificial,  the  country  is  natural.  Whoever  sees  the  peep  of  the 
morning  in  a  city  but  a  drowsy  watchman,  wh<>  waits  for  it  to  go 
to  his  bed?  a  nurse,  that  is  counting  the  heavy  hours,  and  longs  to 
put  out  the  unsnuffed  candles,  and  take  a  cup  of  strong  tea  to  keep 
her  peepers  open  ;  or  some  houseless  wretch,  that  has  woke  up 
from  his  nap  on  a  door-step,  by  a  punch  in  the  ribs  from  the  staff 
of  a  policeman,  who  begrudges  the  misfortunate  critter  a  luxury  he 
is  deprived  of  himself,  and  asks  him  what  he  is  a  doin'  of  there,  as 
if  he  didn't  know  he  had  nothin'  to  do  no  where,  and  tells  him  to 
mizzle  off  home,  as  if  he  took  pleasure  in  reminding  him  he  had 
none.  Duty  petrifies  these  critters'  hearts,  harder  than  the  grand 
marble  porch  stone  that  served  for  a  couch,  or  the  door-step  that 
was  used  for  a  pillow.  Even  the  dug-*  turn  in  then,  for  they  don't 
think  it's  necessary  to  mount  guard  any  longer.  Blinds  and  cur- 
tains are  all  down,  and  every  livin'  critter  is  asleep,  breathing  the 
nastv,  hot,  confined,  unwholesome  air  of  their  bed-rooms,  instead 
of  inhaling  the  cool  dewy  breeze  of  Heaven. 

"  Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  galls  are  thin,  and  pale,  and  delicate, 
and  are  so  languid,  they  look  as  if  they  were  givin  themselves  airs, 
when  all  they  want  is  air?  or  that  the  men  complain  of  dyspep<y, 
and  look  hollow  and  unhealthy,  having  ne'nher  checks,  stomach, 
nor  thighs,  and  have  to  take  bitters,  to  get  an  appetite  for  their 
food,  and  pickles  and  red  pepper  to  digest  it  ?  The  sun  is  up.  and 
has  performed  the  first  stage  of  his  journey  before  the  maid  turns 
out,  opens  the  front  door,  and  takes  a  look  up  and  down  street,  to 
see  who  is  stirrin.  Early  risin  must  be  cheerfulsome,  for  she  is 
very  chipper,  and  throws  some  orange-peel  at  the  .shopman  of  their 
next  neighbor,  as  a  hint  if  he  was  to  chase  her,  he  would  catch  her 
behind  the  hall-door,  as  he  did  ye-terday,  after  which  she  would 
show  him  into  the  supper-room,  where  the  liquors  and  cakes  aru 
t-till  standing  as  they  were  left  last  night. 

"  Yes,  she  is  right  to  hide,  f  >r  it  is  decent,  if  it  ain't  modest,  seein 
the  way  she  has  jump  d  into  her  clothes,  and  the  danger  there  is  of 


TOWN     AND     COUNTRY.  ii6'J 

jumping  out  of  them  again.  How  can  it  be  otherwise,  when  she 
has  to  get  up  so  horrid  early.  It's  all  the  fault  of  the  vile  milk 
man,  who  will  come  for  fear  his  milk^  will  gt-t  sour;  and  that  beast, 
the  iceman,  who  won't  wait,  for  fear  his  ice  will  melt;  ind  that 
stupid  nigger  who  will  brush  the  shoes  then,  he  has  so  many  to 
clean  elsewhere. 

'•  As  she  stands  there,  a  woman  ascends  the  step,  and  produces 
a  basket  from  under  her  cloak,  into  which  she  looks  carefully, 
examines  its  contents,  (some  lace  frills,  tippets,  and  collars  of  her 
mistress,  which  she  wore  a  few  nights  ago  at  a  ball,)  and  returns 
with  someihing  heavy  in  it,  for  the  arm  is  extended  in  carrying  it, 
and  the  stranger  disappears.  She  still  lingers,  she  is  expecting 
some  one.  It  is  the  postman,  he  gives  her  three  or  four  letters, 
one  of  which  is  for  herself.  She  reads  it  approvingly,  and  then 
ca  efully  puts  it  into  her  bosom,  bat  that  won't  retain  it  no  how 
she  can  fix  it,  so  she  shifts  it  to  her  pocket.  It  is  manifest  Posty 
carries  a  verbal  answer,  for  she  talks  very  earnestly  to  him,  and 
shakes  hands  with  him  at  parting  most  cordially. 

u  It  must  be  her  turn  for  a  ball  to  night  I  reckon,  for  a  carriage 
drives  very  rapidly  to  within  three  or  four  hundred  yards  of  the 
house,  and  then  crawls  to  the  door  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  family. 
A  very  fashionably  dressed  maid  is  there ;  (her  mistress  must  be 
very  kind  to  lend  her  such  expensive  head-gear,  splendid  jewelry 
and  costly  and  elegant  toggery,)  and  her  beau  is  there  with  such  a 
handsome,  moustache  and  becoming  beard,  and  an  exquisitely 
worked  chain  that  winds  six  or  seven  times  round  him,  and  hangs 
loose  over  his  waistcoat,  like  a  coil  of  golden  cord.  At  a  given 
signal,  from  the  boss  of  the  hack,  who  stands  door  in  hand,  the 
young  lady  gathers  her  clothes  well  ap  her  drumsticks,  and  would 
you  believe,  two  steps  or  springs  only,  like  those  of  a  kangaroo, 
take  her  into  the  house.  It's  a  streak  of  light,  and  nothing  more. 
It's  lucky  she  is  thin,  for  fat  tames  every  critter  that  is  foolish 
enough  to  wear  it.  and  spoils  agility. 

"  The  beau  takes  it  more  leisurely.  There  are  two  epochs  in 
a  critter's  life  of  intense  happiness,  first  when  he  doffs  the  petti- 
coats, pantellets,  the  hermaphrodite  rig  of  a  child,  and  mounts  the 
jacket  and  trowsers  of  a  boy  ;  and  the  other  is  when  that  gives 
way  to  a  '  long  tail  blue,'  and  a  beard.  He  is  then  a  man. 

'•The  beau  has  reached  this  enviable  age,  and  as  he  is  full  of 
admiration  of  himself,  is  generous  enough  to  allow  time  to  others 
to  feast  their  eves  on  him.  So  he  takes  it  leisurely,  his  characrer, 
like  that  charming  girl's,  won't  suffer  if  it  is  known  they  return  with 
the  cats  in  the  morning  ;  on  the  contrary,  women,  as  they  always 
do,  the  little  fools,  will  think  more  of  him.  They  n  ake  no  allow- 
ance for  one  of  their  own  sex,  but  they  are  very  indulgent,  indeed 
they  are  both  blind  and  deaf  to  the  errors  of  the  other.  The  fa*-; 


TOWN      AND     COUNTRY. 

is,  if  I  didn't  know  it  was  only  vindicating  the  honor  of  their  sex,  I 
vow  I  should  think  it  was  all  envy  of  the  gall  who  was  so  lucky,  as 
to  be  unlucky  ;  but  I  know  better  than  that.  If  the  owner  of  the 
house  should  be  foolish  enough*  to  be  up  so  early,  or  entirely  take 
leave  >f  his  senses,  and  ask  him  why  he  was  mousing  about  there, 
he  flatters  himself  he  is  just  the  child  to  kick  him.  Indeed  he  feels 
inclined  to  flap  his  wings  and  crow.  lie  is  very  proud.  Celestina 
is  in  love  with  him,  and  tells  him,  (but  he  knew  that  before)  he  is 
very  handsome.  He  is  a  man,  he  has  a  beard  as  black  as  the  ace 
of  spades,  is  full  dressed,  and  the  world  is  before  him.  He  thrashed 
a  watchman  last  night,  and  now  he  has  a  diop  in  his  eye,  would 
fight  the  devil.  lie  has  succeeded  in  deceiving  that  gall,  he  has 
no  more  idea  of  marrying  her  than  1  have.  It  shows  his  power. 
He  would  give  a  dollar  to  crow,  but  suffers  himself  to  be  gently 
pushed  out  of  the  hall,  and  the  door  fastened  behind  him,  amid 
such  endearing  expressions,  that  they  would  turn  a  fellow's  head, 
t  ven  after  his  hair  had  grown  gray.  «  He  then  lights  a  cigar,  gets 
up  with  the  driver,  and  looks  round  with  an  air  of  triumph,  as  nuioV 
as  to  say — "what  would  you  give  to  be  admired  and  as  successfu 
as  I  am;"  and  when  he  turns  the  next  corner,  he  does  actilly  crow. 

"  Yes,  yes,  when  the  cat's  away,  the  mice  will  play.  Things 
ain't  in  a  mess,  and  that  house  a  hurrah's  nest  is  it?  Time  wears 
on  and  the  alternate  gall  must  be  a  movin'  now,  for  the  other  who 
n-as  at  the  ball  has  gone  to  bed,  and  intends  to  have  her  by-daily 
neadache  if  inquired  for.  To-night  it  will  be  her  turn  to  dance, 
and  to-morrow  to  sleep,  so  she  cuts  round  considerable  smart.  Poor 
•hing,  the  time  is  not  far  off,  when  you  will  go  to  bed  and  not 
sleep,  but  it's  only  the  child  that  burns  its  fingers  that  dreads  the 
fire.  In  the  meantime  set  things  to  rights. 

"  The  curtains  are  looped  up,  and  the  shutters  folded  back  into 
the  wall,  and  the  rooms  are  sprinkled  with  tea-leaves,  which  are 
lightly  swept  up.  and  the  dust  left  behind,  where  it  ought  to  be,  on 
the  carpet,  that's  all  the  use  there  is  of  a  carpet,  except  you  have 
got  corn.  And  then  the  Venetians  are  let  down  to  darken  the 
rooms,  and  the  windows  are  kept  closed  to  keep  out  the  flies,  the 
dust  and  the  heat,  and  the  flowers  brought  in  and  placed  in  the 
stands.  And  there  is  a  beautiful  temperature  in  the  parlor,  for  it 
is  the  same  air  that  was  there  a  fortnight  before.  It  is  so  hot 
when  the  young  ladies  come  down  to  breakfast  they  can't  eat,  so 
they  take  nothing  but  a  plate  of  buckwheat  cakes,  and  another  of 
hot  buttered  rolls,  a  dozen  of  oysters,  a  pov  of  preserves,  a  cup  of 
honey,  and  a  few  ears  of  Indian  corn.  They  can't  abide  meat,  it's 
too  solid  and  heavy.  It's  so  horrid  warm  it's  impossible  they  can 
have  an  appetite,  and  even  that  little  trifle  makes  them  feel  dys- 
peptic. They'll  starve  soon  ;  what  can  be  the  matter  ?  A  glass 
of  cool  ginger  pop  with  ice  vuuild  be  n  freshing,  and  soda  water  is 


TOWN     AND     COUNTRY.  265 

still  better.  It  is  too  early  for  wine,  and  at  any  rate  it's  heating, 
besides  being  unscri plural. 

"Well  the  men  look  at  their  watches,  and  say  they  aie  in  a 
hurry,  and  must  be  off  for  their  counting-houses  like  wink,  so  they 
bolt.  What  a  wonder  it  is  the  English  common  people  call  the 
stomach  a  bread-basket,  for  it  has  no  mean  in'  there.  They  should 
have  called  it  a  meat-tray,  for  they  are  the  boys  for  beef  and  mut- 
ton. But  with  us  it's  the  identical  thing.  They  clear  the  table  in 
no  time,  it's  a  grand  thing  for  it  saves  the  servants  trouble.  And 
a  steak,  and  a  dish  of  chops,  added  to  what  the  ladies  had,  is  grand. 
The  best  way  to  make  a  pie  is  to  make  it  in  the  stomach.  But 
flour  fixins  piping  hot  is  the  best,  and  as  their  disgestion  ain't  good, 
it  is  better  to  try  a  little  of  every  thing  on  the  table  to  see  which 
best  agrees  with  them.  So  down  goes  the  Johnny  cakes,  Indian 
flappers.  Lucy  Neals,  Hoecakes — with  toast,  fine  cookies,  rice  bat- 
ter, Indian  batter,  Kentucky  batter,  flannel  cakes,  and  clam  fritters. 
Super-superior  fine  flour  is  the  wholesomest  thing  in  the  world,  and 
jou  can't  have  too  much  of  it.  It's  grand  for  pastry,  and  that  is  as 
light  and  as  flakey  as  snow  when  well  made.  How  can  it  make 
paste  inside  of  you  and  be  wholesome?  If  you  would  believe 
some  Yankee  doctors  you'd  think  it  would  make  the  stomach  a 
regular  glue  pot.  They  pretend  to  tell  you  pap  made  of  it  will 
kill  a  baby  as  dead  as  a  herring.  But  doctors  must  have  some 
hidden  thing  to  lay  the  blame  of  their  ignorance  on.  Once  when 
they  didn't  know  what  was  the  matter  of  a  child  they  said  it  was 
water  in  the  brain,  and  now  when  it  dies — oh,  they  say  the  poor 
thing  was  killed  by  that  pastry  flour.  But  they  be  hanged.  How 
can  the.  best  of  any  thing  that  is  good  be  bad  ?  The  only  thing  is 
to  be  sure  a  thing  is  best,  and  then  go  ahead  with  it. 

"  Well,  when  the  men  get  to  their  offices  they  are  half  roasted 
alive,  and  have  to  lake  ices  to  cool  them,  and  their  for  fear  the  cold 
will  heat  them  they  have  to  take  brand_y  cocktail  to  counteract  it. 
So  they  keep  up  a  sort  of  artificial  fever  and  ague  all  day.  The  ice 
gives  the  one  and  brandy  the  other,  like  shuttlecock  and  battledore. 
If  thev  had  walked  down  as  they  had  ought  to  have  done  in  the 
cool  of  the  morning,  they  would  have  avoided  all  this. 

"  How  different  it  is  now  in  the  country,  ain't  it  ?  What  a  glo- 
rious thing  the  sunrise  is]  How  beautiful  the  dew-spangled  bushes 
and  the  pearly  drops  they  shed  are  1  How  sweet  and  cool  is  the 
morning  air,  a"nd  how  refreshing  and  bracing  the  light  breeze  i?  to 
the  nerves  that  have  been  relaxed  in  warm  repose.  The  new 
plowed  earth,-the  snowy-headed  clover,  the  wild  flowers,  the  bloom- 
ing trees,  and  the  balsamic  spruce,  all  exhale  their  fragrance  to  in- 
vite you  forth,  while  the  birds  offer  up  their  morning  hymn  as  if  t« 
proclaim  that  all  things  praise  the  Lord.  The  lowing  herd  remind 
•»<m  that  they  have  kept  their  appointed  time,  and  the  freshening 


266  TOWN      AND     COUNTRY. 

hreezes  as  they  swell  in  the  forest,  and  awaken  the  sleeping  leaves 
?eem  to  whisper,  'we  too  come  with  healing  on  our  wings.'  and 
the  babbling  brook,  that  it  also  has  its  mission  to  minister  to  your 
wants.  Oh,  morning  in  the  country  is  a  glorious  thing,  and  it  is 
impossible  when  one  rises  and  walks  forth  and  surveys  the  scene 
not  to  exclaim,  '  God  is  good.' 

"Oh.  that  early  hour  has  health,  vigor,  and  cheerfulness  in  it. 
How  natural  it  seems  to  me,  how  familiar  I  am  with  every  thing 
it  indicates.  The  dew  tells  me  there  will  be  no  showers,  the  white 
frost  warns  me  of  its  approach;  and  if  that  does  not  arrive  in  time, 
the  sun  instructs  me  to  notice  and  remember,  that  if  it  rises  bright 
and  clear,  and  soon  disappears  in  a  cloud.  I  must  prepare  for  heavy 
rain.  The  birds  and  the  animals,  all,  all  say,  "we,  too,  are  cared 
for,  and  we  have  our  fore-knowledge,  which  we  disclose  by  our  con- 
duct to  yon."  The  brooks,  too,  have  meaning  in  their  voices,  and 
the  southern  sentinel  proclaims  aloud,  '  prepare.'  And  the  western, 
'all  is  well.' 

"  Oh,  how  well  I  know  the  face  of  nature.  What  pleasure  I 
take  as  I  commence  my  journey  at  this  hour,  to  witness  the  rising 
of  the  mist  in  the  autumn  from  the  low  grounds,  and  its  pausing 
on  the  hill  tops,  as  if  regretting  the  scene  it  was  about  to  leave. 
And  how  I  admire  the  little  insect  webs,  that  are  spangled  over 
the  field  at  that  time;  and  the  partridge  warming  itself  in  the  first 
gleam  of  sunshine  it  can  discover  on  the  road.  The  alder,  as  I 
descend  into  the  glen,  gives  me  notice  that  the  first  f  ost  has  visited 
him,  as  it  always  does,  before  others,  to  warn  him  that  it  has  arri- 
ved, to  claim  every  leaf  of  the  forest  as  its  own.  Oh,  the  country 
is  the  place  for  peace,  health,  beauty,  and  innocence.  I  love  it,  1 
was  born  in  it.  I  lived  the  greater  part  of  my  life  there,  and  1 
look  forward  to  die  in  it. 

"  How  different  from  town  life,  is  that  of  the  country.  There 
are  duties  to  be  performed  in-door  and  out-door,  and  the  inmates 
assemble  round  their  breakfast-table,  refreshed  by  sleep,  and  invi- 
gorated by  the  cool  air,  partake  of  their  simple,  plain,  and  substan- 
tial meal,  with  the  relish  of  health,  cheerfulness  and  appetite.  The 
open  window  admits  the  fresh  breeze,  in  happy  ignorance  of  dust, 
noise,  or  fashionable  darkness.  The  verandah  defies  rain,  or  noon- 
day sun,  and  employment  affords  no  room  f..r  complaint  that  the 
day  is  hot,  the  weather  oppressive,  the  nerves  weak,  or  the  diges- 
tion enfeebled.  There  can  be  no  happiness  where  there  is  an  alter- 
nation of  list.lessness  and  excitement.  They  are  the  two  extremes 
between  which  it  resides,  and  that  locality  to  my  mind  is  the  coun- 
try. Care,  disease,  sorrow,  and  disappointment  are  common  to 
both.  ^They  are  the  lot  of  humanity  ;  but  the  children  of  mammon 
and  of  God  bear  them  differently. 

'•I  didn't  intend   to  turn  preacher,  Doctor,  but  1  do  positively 


TOWN      AND     COUNTRY.  267 

believe,  if  1  hadn't  been  a  clockmaker,  dear  old  Ministtr  would 
have  made  me  one.  I  don't  allot,  though,  1  would  have  taken  in 
Slickville,  for  I  actilly  think  I  couldn't  help  waltzing  with  the  g;ills, 
which  would  have  put  our  folks  into  fits,  or  kept  old  Clay,  clergy, 
man  like,  to  leave  sinners  behind  me.  I  can't  make  out  these  puri- 
tan fellows,  or  evangelical  boys  at  all.  To  my  mind,  religion  is  a 
cheerful  thing,  intended  to  make  us  happy,  not  miserable  ;  and 
that  our  faces,  like  that  of  nature,  should  be  smiling,  and  that  like 
birds,  we  should  sing  and  carol,  and  like  lilies,  we  should  be  well 
arrayed,  and  not  that  our  countenances  should  make  folks  believe 
we  were  chosen  vessels,  containing,  not  the  milk  of  human  kind- 
ness, but  horrid  sour  vinegar  and  acid  mothery  grounds.  Why, 
the  very  swamp  behind  our  house  is  full  of  a  plant  called  'a  gall's 
side-saddle.'* 

"  Plague  take  them  old  independents ;  I  can't,  and  never  could 
understand  them.  I  believe  if  Bishop  Laud  had  allowed  them  to 
sing  through  their  noses,  pray  without  gowns,  and  build  chapels 
without  steeples,  they  would  have  died  out  like  quakers,  by  being 
let  alone.  They  wanted  to  make  the  state  believe  they  were  of 
consequence.  If  the  state  had  treated  them  as  if  they  were  of  no 
importance,  they  w<»uld  have  felt  that,  too,  very  soon.  Oppo- 
sition made  them  obstinate.  They  won't  stick  at  nothing  to  carry 
heir  own  ends. 

"They  made  a  law  once  in  Connecticut  that  no  man  should  ride 
or  drive  on  a  Sunday  except  to  a  conventicle.  Well,  an  old  Dutch 
governor  of  New  York,  when  that  was  called  New  Amsterdam 
and  belonged  to  Holland,  once  rode  into  the  colony  on  horseback 
on  a  Sabbath  day  ;  pretty  hard  job  it  was  too,  for  he  was  a  very 
stout  man,  and  a  poor  horseman.  There  were  no  wheel  carriages 
in  those  days,  and  he  had  been  used  to  home  to  travel  in  canal 
boats,  and  smoke  at  his  ease  ;  but  he  had  to  make  the  journey,  and 
he  did  it,  and  he  arrived  just  as  the  puritans  were  coming  out  of 
meeting,  and  going  home,  slowly,  stately,  and  solemnly,  to  their 
cold  dinner,  cooked  the  day  before,  (for  they  didn't  think  it  no 
harm  to  make  servants  work  double  tides  on  Saturday)  their 
rule  being  to  do  anything  of  a  week  day,  but  nothing  on  the 
Sabbath. 

"  Well,  it  was  an  awful  scandal  this,  and  a  dreadful  violation  of 
the  bine  laws  of  the  \  oung  nation.  Connecticut  and  New  Amster. 
dam  (New  York)  were  nothing  then  but  colonies;  but  the  Puritans 
owed  no  obedience  to  princes,  and  set  up  for  themselves.  The 
elders  and  ministry  and  learm-d  men  met  on  Monday,  to  consider 
of  this  dreadful  profanity  of  the  Dutch  governor.  On  the  one 
hand  it  was  argued,  if  he  entered  tl.eir  state  (for  so  they  called  it 

•  This  U  the  common  name  for  the  Sarrarenia. 


TOWN     AND     COUNTRY. 

then)  he  was  amenable  to  their  laws,  and  ought  to  be  cited,  con 
demued,  and  put  into  the  stocks,  as  an  example  to  evil  doers. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  got  hold  of  a  Dutch  book  on  the  Law  of 
Nations,  to  cite  agin  him ;  but  it  was  written  in  Latin,  and 
although  it  contained  all  about  it,  they  couldn't  find  the  place,  for 
their  minister  said  there  was  no  index  to  it.  Well,  it  was  said,  if 
we  are  independent,  so  is  he,  and  whoever  heard  of  a  king  or  a 
prince  being  put  in  the  stocks.  It  bothered  them,  so  they  sen 
their  Yankee  governor  to  him,  to  bully  and  threaten  him,  and  seo 
how  he  would  take  it,  as  we  now  do,  at  the  present  day  to  Spain 
about  Cuba,  and  England,  about  your  fisheries. 

"  Well,  the  governor  made  a  long  speech  to  him,  read  him  a 
chapter  in  the  Bil>le,  and  then  expounded  it,  and  told  him  they 
must  put  him  in  the  stocks.  All  this  time  the  Dutchman  went  on 
smoking,  and  blowing  out  great  long  puffs  of  tobacco.  At  last  he 
paused,  and  said  : 

"'You  be  tamned.  Stockum  me — stockum  teivel,'  and  he  laid 
down  his  pipe,  and  with  one  hand  took  hold  of  their  governor  by 
the  foretop,  and  with  the  other  drew  a  line  across  his  forehead  and 
said,  'den  1  declare  war,  and  Gooten  Himmel !  I  shall  scalp  you 
all.' 

"After  delivering  himself  of  that  long  speech,  he  poured  out  two 
glasses  of  Schiedam,  d.unk  one  himself,  and  offered  the  Yankee 
governor  the  other,  who  objected  to  the  word  Schierfaw,  as  it  ter- 
minated in  a  profane  oath,  with  which,  he  said,  the  Dutch  language 
was  greatly  defiled  ;  but  seeing  it  was  also  called  Geneva  he  would 
swallow  it.  Well,  his  high  mightiness  didn't  understand  him,  but 
he  opened  his  e\  es  like  an  owl,  and  stared,  and  said,  '  dat  is  tarn 
coot,'  and  the  conference  broke  up. 

"  Well,  it  was  the  first  visit  of  the  Dutch  governor,  and  they 
hoped  it  would  be  the  last,  so  they  passed  it  over.  But  his  busi- 
ness was  important,  and  it  occupied  him  the  whole  week  to  settle 
it,  and  he  took  his  leave  on  Saturday  evening,  and  was  to  set  out 
f'»r  home  on  Sunday  again.  Well,  this  was  considered  as  adding 
insult  to  injury.  What  was  to  be  done?  Now  its  very  easy  and 
very  proper  for  us  to  sit  down  and  condemn  the  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
who  encourages  pilgrims  to  go  to  shrines  where  marble  statues 
weep  biood,  and  cataliptic  galls  let  flies  walk  over  their  eyes  with- 
out winking,  and  yet  imprisons  an  English  lady  for  giving  away 
the 'Pilgrim's  Progress.'  It's  very  wrong,  no  "doubt,  but  it  aint 
very  new  after  all.  Ignorant  and  bigoted  people  ulways  have  per- 
secuted, and  always  will,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  But  what  was 
to  be  done  with  his  high  mightiness,  the  Dutch  governor.  Well, 
they  decided  that  it  was  not  lawful  to  put  him  into  the  stocks ;  but 
that  f-t  was  lawful  to  deprive  him  of  the  means  of  sinning.  Soono 
uf  the  elders  swapped  horses  with  him,  and  when  he  started  on  the 


TOWN      AND     COUNTRY.  269 

•nbbath,  the  critter  was  so  lame  after  he  went  a  mile,  he  had  to  re- 
turn and  wait  till  Monday. 

•'No,  I  don't  understand  these  Puritan  folks;  and  I  suppose  if  I 
had  been  a  preacher,  they  wouldn't  have  understood  me.  But  I 
must  get  back  to  where  1  left  off.  I  was  a  talkin'  about  the  differ- 
ence of  lite  in  town  and  in  the  country,  and  how  in  the  world  I  got 
away,  off  from  the  subject,  to  the  Dutch  governor  and  them  Puri- 
tans, I  don't  know.  When  I  say  I  love  the  country,  I  mean  it  in 
its  fullest  extent,  not  merely  old  settlements  and  rural  districts, 
but  the  great  unbroken  forest.  This  is  a  taste,  I  believe,  a  man 
must  have  in  early  life.  I  don't  think  it  can  be  acquired  in  middle 
age,  any  more  than  playin'  marbles  can,  though  old  Elgin  tried  that 
game  and  made  money  at  it.  A  man  must  know  how  to  take  care 
of  himself,  and  cook  for  himself.  It's  no  place  for  an  epicure,  be- 
cause he  can't  carry  his  cook,  and  his  spices,  and  sauces,  and  all 
that,  with  him.  Still  a  man  ought  to  know  a  goose  from  a  grid- 
iron ;  and  if  he  wants  to  enjoy  the  sports  of  the  flood  and  the  for- 
est, he  should  be  able  to  help  himself;  and  what  he  does  he  ought 
to  do  well.  Fingers  were  made  afore  knives  and  forks  ;  flat  stones 
before  bake-pans;  crotched  sticks  before  jacks;  barks  before  tin; 
and  chips  before  plates ;  and  it's  worth  knowing  how  to  use  them 
or  form  them. 

It  takes  two  or  three  years  to  build  and  finish  a  good  house.  A 
wigwam  is  knocked  up  in  an  hour;  and  as  you  have  to  be  your 
own  architect,  carpenter,  mason,  and  laborer,  it's  just  as  well  to  be 
handy  as  not.  A  critter  that  can't  do  that,  hante  the  gumption  of 
a  bear  who  makes  a  den,  a  fox  who  makes  a  hole,  or  a  bird  that 
makes  a  nest,  let  alone  a  beaver,  who  is  a  dab  at  house  building. 
No  man  can  enjoy  the  wood-*,  that  aint  up  to  these  things.  If  he 
aint,  he  had  better  stay  to  his  hotel,  where  there  is  one  servant  to 
clean  his  shoes,  another  to  brush  his  coat,  a  third  to  make  his  bed, 
a  fourth  to  shave  him,  a  fifth  to  cook  for  him,  a  sixth  to  wait  on 
him,  a  seventh  to  wash  for  him,  and  half  a-dozen  more  for  him  to 
scold  and  bless  all  day.  That's  a  place  where  he  can  go  to  bed  and 
get  no  sleep — go  to  dinner,  and  have  no  appetite— go  to  the  win 
dow,  and  get  no  fresh  air,  but  snuff  up  the  perfume  of  drains,  bar 
rooms,  and  cooking-ranges — suffer  from  heat,  because  he  can't  wea. 
his  coat,  or  from  politeness,  because  he  can't  take  it  off — or  go  t< 
the  beach,  where  the  sea  breeze  won't  come,  it's  so  far  up  the  coun 
try,  where  the  white  sand  will  dazzle,  and  where  there  is  no  shade, 
l>i-i-ause  trees  won't  grow — or  stand  and  throw  stones  inio  the 
water,  and  then  jump  in  arter  'em  in  despair,  and  forget  the  way 
out.  He'd  better  do  anything  than  go  to  the  woods. 

"But  if  he  can  help  himself  like  a  man.  oh,  it's  a  glorious  place. 
The  ways  of  the  forest  are  easy  to  learn,  its  nature  is  simple,  wd 
the  rooking  plain,  while  the  fare  i*  abundant.  Fi>h  tor  the  ca'cb- 


Jj<0  TOWN     AND     COUNTRY. 

irig,  deer  for  the  shooting,  cool  springs  for  the  drinking,  wood  for 
the  cutting,  appetite  for  eating,  and  s'eep  that  makes  no  wooing.  It 
comes  with  the  first  star,  and  tarries  till  it  fades  into  morning.  For 
the  time,  you  are  monarch  of  all  you  survey.  No  claimant  forbids 
vou;  no  bailiff  haunts  you  ;  no  thieves  molest  you  ;  no  fops  annoy 
you.  If  the  tempest  rages  without,  you  are  secure  in  your  lowly 
tent.  Though  it  humbles  in  its  fury  the  lofty  pine,  and  uproots 
the  stubborn  oak,  it  pas-es  harmlessly  over  you,  and  you  feel  for 
once  you  are  a  free  and  independent  man.  You  realize  a  term 
which  is  a  fiction  in  our  constitution.  Nor  pride  or  envy,  hatred 
or  malice,  rivalry  or  strife  is  there.  You  are  at  peace  with  all  the 
world,  and  the  world  is  at  peace  with  you.  You  are  not  its  author- 
ity. You  can  worship  God  after  your  own  fashion,  and  dread  not 
the  name  of  bigot,  idolator,  heretic,  or  schismatic.  The  forest  is 
his  temple — he  is  ever  present,  and  the  still,  small  voice  of  your 
short  and  simple  prayer  seems  more  audible  amid  the  silence  that 
reigns  around  you.  You  feel  that  you  are  in  the  presence  of  your 
creator,  before  whom  you  humble  yourself,  and  not  of  man,  before 
whom  you  clothe  yourself  with  pride.  Your  very  solitude  seems 
to  impress  you  with  the  belief  that  though  hidden  from  the  world, 
you  are  more  distinctly  visible,  and  more  individually  an  object  of 
Divine  protection,  than  any  worthless  atom  like  yourself  ever 
could  be  in  the  midst  of  a  multitude — a  mere  unit  of  millions.  Yes, 
you  are  free  to  come,  to  go.  to  stay  ;  your  home  is  co-extensive 
with  the  wild  woods.  Perhaps  it  is  better  for  a  solitary  retreat, 
than  a  permanent  home ;  still  it  forms  a  part  of  what  1  call  the 
country. 

"  At  Country  Harbor  we  had  a  sample  of  the  simple,  plain, 
natural,  unpretending  way  in  which  neighbors  meet  of  an  evening 
in  the  rural  districts.  But  look  at  that  house  in  the  town,  where 
we  saw  the  family  assembled  at  breakfast  this  morning,  and  see 
what  is  going  on  there  to-night.  It  is  the  last  party  of  the  season. 
The  family  leave  the  city,  in  a  week,  for  the  country.  What  a  de- 
lightful change  from  the  heated  air  of  a  town-house,  to  the  quiet 
retreat  of  an  hotel  at  a  watering-place,  where  there  are  only  six 
hundred  people  collected.  It  is  positively  the  very  last  party,  and 
would  have  been  given  weeks  ago,  but  every  body  "was  engaged  for 
so  long  a  time  a-head,  there  was  no  getting  the  fashionable  folks  to 
come.  It  is  a  charming  ball.  The  olo  ladies  are  fully  dressed, 
only  they  are  so  squeezed  against  the  walls,  their  diamonds  and 
pearls  are  hid.  And  the  young  ladies  are  so  lightly  dressed,  they 
look  lovely.  And  the  old  gentlemen  seem  so  happy,  as  they  walk 
round  the  room,  and  smile  on  all  the  acquaintances  of  their  early 
days ;  and  tell  every  one,  they  look  so  well,  and  their  daughters 
are  so  handsome.  It  aint  possible  they  are  bored,  and  thev  trv 
not  even  to  look  so.  And  the  room  is  so  well  lighted,  and  so  wel.1 


TOWN     AND     COUNTRY.  271 

filled,  perhaps  a  little  too  much  so,  to  leave  space  for  the  dancers 
but  yet  not  more  so  than  is  fashionable.  And  then  the  young  gen- 
tlemen talk  so  enchantingly  about  Paris,  and  London,  and  Koine, 
and  so  disparagingly  of  home,  it  is  quite  refreshing  to  hear  them. 
And  they  have  been  in  such  high  society  abroad,  they  ought  to  be 
well  bred,  for  they  know  John  Manners,  and  all  the  Manners  fam- 
ily, and  well  informed  in  politics,  for  they  know  John  Russell,  who 
never  savs  I'll  be  hanged  if  1  do  this  or  that,  but  I  will  be 
beheaded  if  1  do  ;  in  allusion  to  one  of  his  great  ancestors  who  was 
as  innocent  of  trying  to  subvert  the  constitution  as  he  is.  And  they 
have  of. en  seen  '  Albert,  Albert,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  all  the  royal 
family,'  as  they  say  in  England  for  shortness.  They  have  travelled 
with  their  eyes  open,  ears  open,  mouths  open,  and  pockets  open. 
They  have  heard,  seen,  tasted,  and  bought  everything  worth  having. 
They  are  capital  judges  of  wine,  and  that  reminds  them,  there  is 
lots  of  the  best  in  the  next  room  ;  but  they  soon  discover  they 
can't  have  it  in  perfection  in  America.  It  has  been  nourished  for 
the  voyage ;  it  has  been  fed  with  brandy.  It  is  heady  ;  for  when 
they  return  to  their  fair  friends,  their  binds  are  not  quite  steady ; 
they  are  apt  to  spill  things  over  the  ladies'  dresses  (but  they  are  so 
good-natured,  they  only  laugh ;  for  they  never  wear  a  dress  but 
wunst).  And  their  eyes  sparkle  like  jewels,  and  they  look  at  their 
partners  as  if  they  would  eat  'em  up.  And  1  guess  they  tell  them 
so,  for  they  start  sometimes,  and  say  : 

•' '  Oh,  well 'now,  that's  too  bad!  Why,  how  you  talk  ?  Well, 
travellin'  hasn't  improved  you.' 

••  Hut  it  must  be  a  charming  thing  to  be  eat  up,  for  they  look 
delighted  at  tlie  very  idea  of  it  j  and  their  mammas  seem  pleased 
that  they  are  so  much  to  the  taste  of  these  travelled  gentlemen. 

"  \V\-il  then,  dancing  is  voted  a  bore  by  the  handsomest  couple 
in  the  room,  and  they  sit  apart,  and  the  uninitiated  think  they  are 
making  love.  And  they  talk  so  confidentially,  and  look  so 
amused  ;  they  seem  delighted  with  each  other.  But  they  are  only 
criticising. 

"  '  Who  is  pink  skirt  ?' 

44 '  Blue-n<«se  Mary.' 

44 '  What  in  the  world  do  the\  call  her  Blue-nose  for?' 

"  '  It  is  a  nick-name  for  the  Nova  Scotians.  Her  father  is  one ; 
he  made  his  fortune  by  a  diviog-6d2.1 

44 '  Did  he  I      Well,  it's  quite  right  then  it  should  go  with  a  belle? 

"'How  very  good!  May  1  repeat  that?  You  do  say  such 
clever  things  !  And  who  is  that,  pale  girl  that  reminds  you  of 
brown  liollaiid,  bleached  white?  She  looks  quite  scriptural ;  she 
has  a  proud  look  and  a  high  stomach.' 

"  •  That's  Itat  hael  Scott,  one  of  my  very  best  friends.  She  is  as 
goud  a  girl  as  ever  lived.  My  !  I  wish  I  was  as  rich  as  she  is.  1 


272  TOWN      AND     COUNTRY. 

have  only  three  hundred  thousand  dollars,  but  she  will  have  four  at 
her  father's  death  if  he  don't  bust  and  fail.  But,  dear  me  !  how 
Revere  you  are !  I  am  quite  afraid  of  you.  I  wonder  what  you 
will  say  of  me  when  my  back  is  turned  ! ' 

"'Shall  I  tell  you]' 

"  '  Yes,  if  it  isn't  too  savage.' 

"The  hint  about  the  money  is  not  lost,  for  he  is  looking  ror  a 
fortune,  it  saves  the  trouble  of  making  one  ;  and  he  whispers  some- 
thing in  her  ear  that  pleases  her  uncommonly,  for  she  sais  : 

"  '  Ah  now,  the  severest  thing  you  can  do  is  to  flatter  me  that 
way.' 

"  They  don't  discourse  of  the  company  any  more ;  they  have 
too  much  to  say  to  each  other  of  themselves  now. 

"  '  My  !  what  a  smash  !  what  in  the  world  is  that  ?' 

"  '  Nothing  but  a  large  mirror.  It  is  lucky  it  is  broken  ;  for  if 
the  host  saw  himself  in  it,  he  might  see  the  face  of  a  fool.' 

"'How  uproariously  those  young  men  talk,  and  how  loud  the 
music  is,  and  how  confounded  hot  the  room  is  !  I  must  go  home. 
But  I  must  wait  a  moment  till  that  noisy,  tipsy  boy  is  dragged 
down  stairs,  and  shoved  into  a  hack.' 

"And  this  is  upstart  life,  is  it?  Yes,  but  there- are  changing 
scenes  in  life.  Look  at  these  rooms  next  morning.  The  chan- 
delier is  broken  ;  the  centre  table  upset,  the  curtains  are  ruined  ; 
the  carpets  are  covered  with  ice-creams,  jellies,  blancmanges,  and 
broken  glass.  And  the  elegant  album,  souvenirs,  and  autograph- 
books,  are  all  in  the  midst  of  this  nasty  mess.*  The  couches  are 
greasy,  the  silk  ottoman  shows  it  has  been  sat  in,  since  it  met  with 
an  accident  which  was  only  a  trifle,  and  there  has  been  the  devil  to 
pay  everywhere.  A  doctor  is  seen  going  into  the  house,  and  soon 
after  a  coffin  is  seen  coming  out.  An  unbidden  guest,  a  disgusting, 
levelling  democrat  came  to  that  ball,  how  or  when  no  one  knew  ; 
but  there  he  is,  and  there  he  will  remain  for  the  rest  of  the 
summer.  He  has  victimized  one  poor  girl  already,  and  is  now 
strangling  another.  The  yellow  fever  is  there.  Nature  has  sen 
her  avenging  angel.  There  is  no  safety  but  in  flight. 

"  Good  gracious !  if  people  will  ape  their  superiors,  why  won't 
they  imitate  their  elegance  as  well  as  their  extravagance,  and  learn 
that  it  is  the  refinement  alone  of  the  higher  orders,  which  in  all 
countries  distinguishes  them  from  the  rest  of  mankind.  The 
decencies  of  life,  when  polished,  become  its  brightest  ornaments. 
<jk>ld  is  a  means,  and  not  an  end.  It  can  do  a  great  deal,  still  it 
can't  do  everything;  and  among  others,  I  guess,  it  can't  make  a 
gentleman,  or  else  California  would  be  chock  full  of  'em.  No; 
give  me  the  country,  and  the  folks  that  Jive  in  it,  1  say." 

*  Whoever  thinks  this  description  overdrawn,  is  referred  to  a  remarkablj 
clever  work  which  lately  appeared  in  New  York,  entitled  "  The  Potiphat 
Papers."  Mr.  Slick  has  evidently  spared  this  class  of  society. 


THE     HONEYMOON.  273 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
THE    HONEYMOON. 

AFTEK  having  given  vent  to  the  foregoing  lockrum.  I  took  Jehoso 
pliat  Bean's  illustrated  "Biography  of  the  Eleven  Hundred  and 
•Seven  Illustrious  American  Heroes,"  and  turned  in  to  read  a  spell ; 
but  arter  a  while  1  lost  sight  of  the  heroes  and  their  exploits,  and 
1  got  into  a  wide  spekilation  on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  and,  among 
the  rest,  my  mind  wandered  off  to  Jordan  river,  the  Collingwood 
girls  in  particular,  and  Jessie  and  the  Doctor,  and  the  Beaver-dam, 
and  its  inmates  in  general.  I  shall  set  down  my  musings  as  if  I 
was  thinking  aloud. 

1  wonder,  sais  I  to  myself,  whether  Sophy  and  I  shall  be  happy 
together,  sposin  always,  that  she  is  willing  to  put  her  head  into  the 
yoke,  for  that's  by  no  means  sartain  yet.  I'll  know  better  when  I 
can  study  her  more  at  leisure.  Still,  matrimony  is  always  a  risk, 
where  you  don't  know  what  sort  of  breaking  a  critter  has  had  when 
young.  Women,  in  a  general  way,  don't  look  like  the  same  critters 
when  they  are  spliced,  that  they  do  before;  matrimony,  like  sugar 
and  water,  has  a  natural  affinity  for,  and  tendency  to  acidity.  The 
clear,  beautiful,  bright  sunshine  of  the  wedding  morning,  is  too  apt 
to  cloud  over  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  the  afternoon  to  be  cold,  raw, 
and  uncomfortable,  or  else  the  heat  generates  storms  that  fairly 
make  the  house  shake,  and  the  happy  pair  tremble  again.  Every 
body  knows  the  real,  solid  grounds,  which  can  alone  make  married 
life  perfect.  J  should  only  prose  if  1  was  to  state  them,  but  I  have 
an  idea,  as  cheerfulness  is  a  great  ingredient,  a  good  climate  has  a 
vast  deal  to  do  with  it,  for  who  can  be  chirp  in  a  bad  one.  Wed- 
lock was  first  instituted  in  Paradise.  Well,  there  must  have  been 
a  charming  climate  there.  It  could  not  have  been  too  hot,  for  Eve 
never  used  a  parasol,  or  even  a  "  kiss-me-quick, '  and  Adam  never 
complained,  though  he  wore  no  clothes,  that  the  sun  blistered  his 
skin.  It  couldn't  have  been  wet,  or  they  would  have  coughed  all 
the  time,  like  consumptive  sheep,  and  it  would  have  spoiled  their 
garden,  let  alone  giving  them  the  chilblains  and  the  snuffles.  They 
didn't  require  umbrellas,  uglies,  fans,  «>r  India-rubber  shoes.  There 
was  no  such  a  thing  as  a  stroke  of  the  sun,  or  a  snow-drift  there. 
1'he  temperature  must  have  been  perfect, and  connubial  bliss,  I  allot, 
was  real  jam  up.  The  only  thing  that  seemed  wanting  there,  was 
for  some  one  to  drop  in  to  tea,  now  and  then,  for  Eve  to  have  a 
good  chat  with,  while  Adam  was  a  studyin  astronomy,  or  tryin  to 
invent  a  kettle  that  would  stand  lire;  for  women  do  like  talking, 
that's  a  fact,  and  there  are  m,.in  little  things  they  have  to  say  to 
12 


THE     HONEYMOON. 

each  other,  that  no  man  has  any  right  to  hea/,  arid  if  he  did,  he 
couldn't  understand. 

It's  like  a  dodge  Sally  and  I  had  to  blind  mother.  Sally  was 
for  everlastingly  leaving  the  keys  about,  and  every  time  there  was 
an  inquiry  about  them,  or  a  hunt  for  them,  the  old  lady  would  read 
her  a  proper  lecture.  So  at  last  she  altered  the  name,  and  said 
"Sam,  wo  is  shlizel,"  instead  of  where  is  the  key,  and  she  tried  all 
she  could  to  find  it  out,  but  she  couldn't,  for  the  life  of  her. 

Yes,  what  can  be  expected  of  such  a  climate  as  Nova  Scotia  or 
England.  Though  the  first  can  ripen  Indian  corn  and  the  other 
can't,  and  that  is  a  great  test,  I  can  tell  you,  it  is  hard  to  tell  which 
of  them  is  wuss,  for  both  are  bad  enough,  gracious  knows,  and  yet 
the  fools  that  live  in  them,  brag  that  their  own  beats  all  natur.  If 
it  is  the  former,  well  then  thunder  don't  clear  the  weather  as  it  does 
to  the  south,  and  the  sun  don't  come  out  bright  again  at  wunst,  and 
all  natur  look  clear,  and  tranquil,  and  refreshed;  and  the  flowers 
and  roses  don't  hang  their  heads  down  coily  for  the  breeze  to  brush 
the  drops  from  their  newly  painted  leaves,  and  then  hold  up  and 
look  more  lovely  than  ever;  nor  does  the  voice  of  song  and  meiri- 
nient  arise  from  every  tree;  nor  fragrance  and  perfume  fill  the  air, 
till  ,>  ou  are  tempted  to  say,  now  did  \  ou  ever  see  anything  so 
charming  as  this  ?  nor  do  you  stroll  out  arm-in  arm  (that  is  sposin 
you  ain't  in  a  nasty,  dirty,  horrid. town,)  and  feel  pleased  with  the 
dear  married  gall  and  yourself,  and  all  you  see  and  hear  while  you 
drink  in  pleasure  with  every  sense — oh,  it  don't  do  that.  Thunder 
unsettles  everything  for  most  a  week,  there  seems  no  end  to  the 
gloom  during  these  three  or  four  days.  You  shiver  if  you  don't 
make  a  fire,  and  if  you  do  you  are  fairly  roasted  alive.  It's  all 
grumblin  and  growlin  within,  and  all  mud,  slush,  and  slop  outside. 
You  are  bored  to  death  everywhere.  And  if  it's  English  climate, 
it  is  wus  still,  because  in  Nova  Scotia  there  is  an  end  to  all  this  a< 
last,  for  the  west  wind  blows  towards  the  end  of  the  week  soft,  and 
cool,  and  bracing,  and  sweeps  away  the  clouds,  and  lays  the  dust, 
and  dries  all  up,  and  makes  everything  smile  again.  But  if  it  is 
English,  it's  unsettled  and  uncertain  all  the  time.  You  can't  depend 
on  it  for  an  hour.  Now  it  rain$,  then  it  clears,  after  that  the  sun 
shines;  but  it  rains,  too,  both  together,  like  hystericks,  laughing 
and  crying  at  the  same  time.  The  trees  are  loaded  with  water,  and 
hold  it  like  a  sponge;  touch  a  bough  of  one  with  your  hat,  and  you 
are  drowned  in  a  shower-bath.  There  is  no  hope,  for  there  is  no 
end  visible,  and  when  there  does  seem  a  little  glimpse  of  light,  so 
as  to  make  you  think  it  is  a  going  to  relent,  it  wraps  itself  up  in  a 
foggy,  drizzly  mist,  and  sulks  like  anything. 

In  this  country  they  have  a  warm  summer,  a  magnificent  autumn, 
a  clear,  cold,  healthy  winter,  but  no  sort  of  spring  at  all.  lu 


THE      HONEYMOON.  275 

England  they  have  no  summer  and  no  winter.*  Now,  in  my 
opinion,  that  makes  the  difference  in  temper  betweej  the  two  races. 
The  clear  sky  and  bracing  air  here,  when  they  do  come,  give  the 
folks  good  spirits;  but  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold  limit  the  time, 
and  decrease  the  inclination  for  exercise.  Still  the  people  are  good- 
natured,  m^rry  fellows.  In  England,  the  perpetual  gloom  of  the 
sky  affects  the  disposition  of  the  men.  America  knows  no  such 
temper  as  exists  in  Britain.  People  here  can't  even  form  an  idea 
of  it.  Folks  often  cut  off  their  children  there  in  their  wills  for  half 
nothing,  won't  be  reconciled  to  them  en  any  terms,  if  they  once 
displease  them,  and  both  they  and  their  sons  die  game,  and  when 
death  sends  cards  of  invitation  for  the  last  assemblage  of  a  family, 
they  write  declensions.  There  can't  be  much  real  love  where  there 
is  no  tenderness.  A  gloomy  sky,  stately  houses,  and  a  cold,  formal 
people,  make  Cupid,  like  a  bird  of  passage,  spread  his  wings,  and 
take  flight  to  a  more  congenial  climate. 

Castles  have  shew-apartments,  and  the  vulgar  gaze  with  stupid 
•wonder,  and  envy  the  owners.  But  there  are  rooms  in  them  all, 
ix>t  exhibited.  In  them  the  imprisoned  bird  may  occasionally  be 
seen,  as  in  the  olden  time,  to  flutter  against  the  casement  and  pine 
in  the  gloom  of  its  noble  cage.  There  are  chambers,  too,  in  which 
grief,  anger,  jealousy,  wounded  pride,  and  disappointed  ambition, 
pour  out  their  sighs,  their  groans,  and  imprecations,  unseen  and 
unheard.  The  halls  resound  with  mirth  and  revelry,  and  the  eye 
grows  dim  with  its  glittering  splendor  ;  but,  amid  all  this  ostenta- 
tious brilliancy,  poor  human  nature  refuses  to  be  comforted  with 
diamonds  and  pearls,  or  to  acknowledge  that  happiness  consists  in 
gilded  galleries,  gay  equipages,  or  fashionable  parties.  They  are 
cold  and  artificial.  The  heart  longs  to  discard  this  joyless  pa- 
geantry, to  surround  itself  with  human  affections,  and  only  asks  to 
love  and  be  loved.  ,. 

*  Still  England  is  not  wholly  composed  of  castles  and  cottages, 
and  there  are  very  many  happy  homes  in  it,  and  thousands  upon 
thousands  cf  happy  people  in  them,  in  spite  of  the  melancholy 
climate,  the  destitution  of  the  poor  and  the  luxury  of  the  rich. 
God  is  good.  He  is  not  only  merciful,  but  a  just  judge.  He 
equalizes  the  condition  of  all.  The  industrious  poor  man  is  content, 
for  he  relies  on  Providence,  and  his  own  exertions  for  his  daily 
bread.  He  earns  his  food,  and  his  labor  gives  him  a  zest  for  it. 
Ambition  craves,  and  is  never  satisfied,  one  is  poor  amid  his 
prodigal  wealth,  the  other  rich  in  his  frugal  poverty.  No  man  is 
rich  whose  expenditure  exceed*  his  means  ;  and  no  one  is  poor,  whose 
incomings  exceeds  his  outgoings.  Barring  such  things  as  climate, 
over  which  we  have  no  control,  happiness,  in  my  idea,  consists  i-i 

*  I  wonder  what  Mr.  Slick  would  say  now.  in  1855. 


270  THE     HONKYMOOX. 

the  mil  d,  arid  i.ot  in  the  purse.  These  are  plain  common  truths, 
and  every  body  will  tell  you  there  is  nothing  new  in  them,  just  as 
if  there  was  anything  new  under  the  sun  but  my  wooden  clocks, 
and  yet  they  only  say  so  because  they  can't  deny  them,  for  who 
acts  as  if  he  ever  heard  of  them  before.  Now,  if  they  do  know 
them,  why  the  plague  don't  they  regulate  their  time-pieces  by 
them.  If  they  did,  matrimony  wouldn't  make  such  an  everlastin 
transmogrification  of  folks  as  it  does,  would  it? 

The  way  cupidists  scratch  their  head,  and  open  their  eyes  and 
stare,  after  they  are  married,  reminds  me  of  Felix  Culpepper.  He 
was  a  judge  at  Saint  Lewis,  on  the  Mississippi,  and  tlie  lawyers 
used  to  talk  gibberish  to  him,  yougerry  eyegerry  iggery,  ogerry, 
and  tell  him  it  was  Littleton's  Norman  French,  and  Law  Latin. 
It  fairly  onfakilised  him.  Wedlock  works  just  such  changes  on 
folks  sometimes.  It  makes  me  laugh  and  then  it  fairly  scan*  me. 

Sophy,  dear,  how  will  you  and  I  get  on,  eh?  The  Lord  only 
knows,  but  you  are  an  uncommon  sensible  gall,  and  people  tell  me 
till  I  begin  to  believe  it  myself,  that  I  have  some  common  sense, 
so  we  must  try  to  learn  the  chart  of  life,  so  as  to  avoid  those  sunk 
rocks  so  many  people  make  shipwreck  on.  I  have  often  asked 
myself  the  rea-on  ot  all  this  onsartainty.  Let  us  jist  see  how  folks 
talk  and  think,  and  decide  on  this  subject.  First  and  foremost 
they  have  got  a  great  many  cant  terms,  and  you  can  judge  a  good 
deal  from  them.  There  is  the  honeymoon  now,  was  there  ever 
such  a  silly  word  as  that?  Minister  said  the  Dutch  at  New 
Amsterdam,  as  they  used  to  call  New  York,  brought  out  the  word 
to  America,  for  all  the  friends  of  the  new  married  couple,  in 
Holland,  did  nothing  for  a  whole  month,  but  smoke,  drink 
metheglin,  (a  tipple  made  of  honey  and  gin,)  and  they  called  that 
bender  the  honeymoon  ;  since  then  the  word  has  remained,  though 
metheglin  is  forgot  for  something  better. 

Well,  when  a  couple  is  married  now,  they  give  up  a  whole* 
month  to  each  other,  what  an  everlastin  sacrifice,  ain't  it,  out  of  a 
man's  short  life  ?  The  reason  is,  they  say,  the  metheglin  gets  sour 
after  that,  and  ain't  palateable  no  more,  and  what  is  left  of  it  is 
used  for  picklin  cucumbers,  peppers,  and  nastertions,  and  what  nor. 
Now  as  Brother  Eldad,  the  doctor,  says,  let  us  dissect  this  phrase, 
and  find  out  what  one  whole  moon  means,  and  then  we  shall  under- 
stand what  this  wonderful  th  ng  is.  The  new  moon  now,  as  a  body 
might  say,  ain't  nothing.  It's  just  two  small  lines  of  a  semicircle, 
like  half  a  wheel,  with  a  little  strip  of  white  in  it,  about  as  big  as  a 
cart  tire,  and  it  sits  a  little  after  sundown  ;  and  as  it  gives  no  light 
you  must  either  use  a  candle  or  go  to  bed  in  the  dark,  now  that's 
the  first  week,  and  it's  no  great  shakes  to  brag  on,  is  it?  Well, 
then  there  is  the  first  quarter,  and  calling  that  the  first  which 
ought  to  be  second,  unless  the  moon  has  only  three  quarters,  which 


THK     HO KEY MoOX.  277 

•otinds  odd,  shows  that  the  new  moon  counts  for  nothin.  Well, 
the  first  quarter  is  something  like  the  thing,  though  not  the  real 
genuine  article  either.  It's  better  than  the  other,  but  its  light  don't 
quite  satisfy  us  neither.  Well,  then  conies  the  full  moon  and  that 
is  all  there  is,  as  one  may  say.  Now,  neither  the  moon  nor  nothin 
else  can  be  more  than  full,  and  when  you  have  got  all,  there  is 
nothing  more  to  expect.  But  a  man  must  be  a  blockhead  indeed 
to  expect  the  moon  to  remain  one  minute  after  it  it  full,  as  every 
night  clips  a  little  bit  off,  till  there  is  a  considerable  junk  gone  by 
the  time  the  week  is  out,  and  what  is  worse,  every  night  there  is 
more  and  more  darkness  afore  it  rises.  It  conies  reluctant,  and 
when  it  does  arrive  it  hante  long  to  stay,  for  the  last  quarter  takes 
its  turn  at  the  lantern.  That  only  rises  a  little  afore  the  sun,  as  if 
it  was  ashamed  to  be  caught  napping  at  that  hour — that  quarter 
therefore  is  nearly  as  dark  as  ink.  So  you  see,  the  new  and  last 
quarter  go  for  nothing  ;  that  everybody  will  admit.  The  first  ain't 
much  better,  but  the  last  half  of  that  quarter  and  the  first  of  the  full, 
make  a  very  decent  respectable  week. 

Well,  then,  what's  all  this  when  its  fried?  Why  it  amounts  to 
this,  that  if  there  is  any  resemblance  between  a  lunar  and  a  lunatic 
month,  that  the  honeymoon  lasts  only  one  good  week. 

Don't  be  skeared,  Sophy,  when  you  read  this,  because  we  must 
look  things  in  the  face  and  call  them  by  their  right  name. 

Well,  then,  let  us  call  it  the  honey-week.  Now  if  it  takes  a 
whole  month  to  make  one  honey-week,  it  must  cut  to  waste 
terribly,  mustn't  it]  But  then  you  know  a  man  can't  wive  an.J 
thrive  the  same  year.  Now  wastin  so  much  of  that  precious 
month  is  terrible,  ain't  it  1  But  oh  me,  bad  as  it  is,  it  ain't  the 
worst  of  it.  There  is  no  insurance  office  for  happiness,  there  is  no 
policy  to  be  had  to  cover  losses — you  must  bear  them  all  yourself. 
Now  suppose,  just  suppose  for  one  moment,  and  positively  such 
things  have  happened  before  now,  they  have  indeed  ;  1  have  known 
them  occur  more  thau  once  or  twice  myself  among  my  own 
friends,  fact,  I  assure  you.  Suppose  now  that  week  is  cold,  cloudy, 
or  uncomfortable,  where  is  the  honeymoon  then  .'  Recollect  there 
is  only  one  of  them,  there  ain't  two.  You  can't  say  in  rained  cats 
and  dogs  this  week,  let  us  try  the  next ;  you  can't  do  that,  it's  over 
and  gone  for  ever.  Well,  if  you  begin  life  with  disappointment,  it 
is  apt  to  end  in  despair. 

Now,  Sophy  dear,  as  I  said  before,  don't  get  skittish  at  seeing 
this,  and  start  and  race  off  and  vow  you  won't  ever  let  the  halter  brf 
put  on  you,  for  1  kinder  sorter  guess  that,  with  your  sweet  temper, 
good  sense,  and  levin  heart,  and  with  the  light-hand  1  have  for  a 
rein,  our  honex  moon  will  last  through  life.  We  will  give  up  that 
silly  word  that  foolish  boys  and  girls  use  without  knowing  its 
nieanip,  and  we  will  count  by  years  and  not  by  months,  and  w» 


278  THE     HONEYMOON. 

won't  expect  what  neither  marriage,  nor  any  other  earthly  thing 
c.m  give,  perfect  happiness.  It  tante  in  the  nature  of  things,  and 
don't  stand  to  reason,  that  earth  is  Heaven,  Sliekville  paradise,  or 
vou  and  me  angels;  we  ain't  no  such  a  thing.  If  you  was,  most 
likely  the  first  eastwardlv  wind  (and  though  it  is  a  painful  thing  to 
confess  it,  1  must  candidly  admit  there  is  an  easterly  wind  some- 
times to  my  place  to  home),  why  you  would  just  up  wings  and  off 
to  the  sky,  like  wink,  and  say  you  didn't  like  the  land  of  the  Puri- 
tans, it  was  just  like  themselves,  cold,  hard,  uncongenial,  and  repul 
sive;  and  what  should  I  do?  Why  most  likely  remain  behind,  for 
there  is  no  marrying  or  giving  in  marriage  up  there. 

No,  no,  dear,  if  you  are  an  angel,  and  positively,  you  are  amaz- 
ingly like  one,  why  the  first  time  1  catch  you  asleep  I  will  clip  your 
wings  and  keep  you  here  with  me,  until  we  are  both  ready  to  start 
together.  We  won't  hope  fur  too  much,  nor  fret  for  trifles,  will 
we'?  These  two  things  are  the  greatest  maxims  in  life  1  know  of. 
When  I  was  a  boy  I  used  to  call  them  commandments,  but  I  got 
such  a  lecture  for  that,  and  felt  so  sorry  fir  it  afterwards,  I  never 
did  again  nor  will  as  long  as  I  live.  Oh,  dear,  I  shall  never  forget 
the  lesson  poor  dear  old  Minister  taught  me  on  that  occasion. 

There  was  a  thanksgiving  ball  wunst  to  Slickville,  and  I  wanted 
to  go,  but  I  had  no  clothes  suitable  for  such  an  occasion  as  that,  and 
father  said  it"  would  cost  more  than  it  was  worth  to  rig  me  out  for 
it,  so  1  had  to  stop  at  home.  Sais  Mr.  llopewell  to  me, 

"Sam,"  said  he,  "  don'.t  fret  about  it,  you  will  find  it  'all  the 
same  a  year  hence.'  As  that  holds  good  in  most  things,  don't  it 
show  us  the  folly  now  of  those  trifles  we  set  our  hearts  on,  when  in 
one  short  year  they  will  be  disregarded  or  forgotten." 

"Never  fear,"  said  I,  "lam  not  a-going  to  break  the  twelfth 
commandment." 

"Twelfth  commandment,"  said  he,  repeatin  the  words  _slowly, 
lay  in  down  his  book,  taking  off  his  spectacles,  and  lookin  hard  at 
me,  almost  onfakilised.  "  Twelfth  commandment,  did  1  hear  right, 
Sam,"  said  he,  "  did  you  say  that  ?  " 

Well,  I  saw  there  was  a  squall  rising  to  windward,  but  boy-like, 
instead  of  shortening  sail,  and  taking  down  royals  and  top-gallant 
masts,  and  making  all  snug,  I  just  braved  it  out,  and  prepared  to 
meet  the  blast  with  every  inch  of  canvass  set.  '•  Yes,  sir,"  said  I, 
"  the  twelfth." 

"Dear  me,"  said  he,  "  poor  boy,  that  is  my  fault.  I  really 
thought  you  knew  there  were  only  ten,  and  had  them  by  heart 
years  ago.  They  were  among  the  first  things  I  taught  you.  How 
on  earth  could  you  have  forgotten  them  so  soon.  Kepeat  them  to 
me." 

Well,  I  went  through  them  all,  down  to  "anything  that  is  his," 
to  ampersand  without  making  a  single  stop. 


THE     HONEYMOON.  279 

"  Sam,"  said  he,  "  don't  do  it  again,  that's  a  good  soul,  for  it 
frightens  me.  I  thought  I  must  have  neglected  you." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  there  are  two  more,  Sir-" 

"  Two  more,"  he  said,  "  why  what  under  the  sun  do  you  mean  ? 
what  are  they  ?" 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "the  eleventh  is,  '  Expect  nothin,  and  you  shall 
not  be  disappointed,'  and  the  twelvth  is,  '  Fret  not  thy  gizzard.'  " 

"  And  pray,  sir,"  said  he,  looking  thuudersqualls  at  me,  "  where 
did  you  learn  them  ?" 

"  From  Major  Zeb  Vidito,"  said  I. 

u  Major  Zeb  Vidito,"  he  replied,  "  is  the  greatest  reprobate  in 
the  army.  He  is  the  wretch  who  boasts  that  he  fears  neither  God, 
man,  nor  devil.  Go,  my  son,  gather  up  your  books,  and  go  home. 
You  can  return  to  your  father.  My  poor  house  has  no  room  in  it 
for  Major  Zeb  Vidito,  or  his  pupil,  Sam  Slick,  or  any  such  profane 
wicked  people,  and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  you." 

Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  it  brought  me  to  my  bearings 
tliat.  1  had  to  heave  to,  lower  a  boat,  send  a  white  flag  to  him, 
bt-il  pardon,  and  so  on,  and  we  knocked  up  a  treaty  of  peace,  and 
made  friends  again. 

;'  I  won't  say  no  more  about  it,  Sam,"  said  he,  "  but  mind  my 
words,  and  apply  your  experience  to  it  afterwards  in  life,  and  see 
if  1  aint  right.  Crime  has  but  two  travelling  companions.  It  com- 
mences its  journey  with  the  scoffer,  and  ends  it  with  the  blasphemer, 
not  that  talking  irreverently  aint  very  improper  in  itself,  but  it 
destroys  the  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  and  prepares  the  way  for 
sin." 

Now,  I  won't  call  these  commandments,  for  the  old  man  was 
right,  it's  no  way  to  talk,  I'll  call  them  maxims.  Now,  we  won't 
i'.\l>*'ct  too  much,  nor  fret  over  trifles,  will  we,  Sophy  1  It  takes  a 
givat  deal  to  make  happiness,  for  every  thing  must  be  in  tune  like 
a  piano ;  but  it  takes  very  little  to  spoil  it.  Fancy  a  bride  now 
having  a  tooth-aftie,  or  a  swelled  face  during  the  honeymoon.  In 
courtship  she  won't  sh«.w,  but  in  marriage  she  can't  help  it;  or  a 
felon  on  her  finger,  (it  is  to  be  hoped  she  hain't  given  her  hand  to 
one) ;  or  fancy  now,  just  fancy,  a  hooping-cough  caught  in  the  cold 
church,  that  causes  her  to  make  a  noise  like  drowning,  a  great  gur- 
gling in-draught,  and  a  groat  out-blowing,  like  a  young  sporting 
porpoise,  and  instead  of  being  all  alone  with  her  own  dear  husband, 
to  have  to  a«imit  the  horrid  d.-ctor,  and  take  draughts  that  make 
ht-r  breath  as  hot  as  steam,  and  submit  to  have  nauseous  garlic  and 
1. randy  nililn-d  on  her  breast,  spine,  palms  of  her  hands,  and  sok-a 
of  her  (Vc-t.  that  makes  the  bridegoom.  every  time  he  comes  near 
her  to  ask  her  how  she  is,  sneeze  as  if  he  was  catching  it  hirnsp  t. 
He  duo't  say  to  himself  in  an  undertone,  damn  it,  how  unlucky 
this  is.  Of  course  not ;  he  is  to«  happy  to  swear,  if  he  aint  too 


280  THE     HONEYMOON. 

good,  as  he  ought  to  be  ;  and  she  don't  say.  eigh — augh,  like  a  don- 
key,  for  they  have  the  hoopirg-cough  all  the  y<-ar  round  :  "  dear 
Jove,  eigh — angh,  how  wretched  this  is,  ain't  it?  eigh — augh,"  of 
course  not;  bow  can  she  be  wretched?  Aint  it  her  honeymoon? 
and  aint  she  as  happy  as  a  bride  can  be,  though  she  does  eigh — • 
augh  her  slippers  up  amost.  But  it  won't  last  long,  she  feels  sure 
it  won't,  she  is  better  now,  the  doctor  says  it  will  be  soon  over ; 
yes,  but  the  honeymoon  will  be  over,  too,  and  it  don't  corne  like 
Christmas,  once  a  year.  When  it  expires  like  a  dying  swan,  it  sings 
its  own  funeral  h\  inn. 

Well,  then  fancy,  just  fancy,  when  she  gets  well,  and  looks  as 
chipper  as  a  canary-bird,  though  not  quite  so  yaller  from  the  effects 
of  cold,  that  the  bridegroom  has  his  turn  and  is  taken  down  with 
the  acute  rheumatism,  and  can't  move,  tack  nor  sheet,  and  has  cam- 
phor, turpentine,  and  hot  embrocations  of  all  sorts  and  kinds  ap- 
plied to  him,  till  his  room  has  the  identical  perfume  of  a  druggist's 
shop,  while  he  screams  if  he  aint  moved,  and  yells  if  he  is,  and  his 
temper  peeps  out.  It  don't  break  out,  of  course,  for  he  is  a  happy 
man  ;  but  it  just  peeps  out  as  a  masculine  he-angers  would  if  he 
was  tortured. 

The  fact  is,  lookin  at  life,  with  its  false  notions,  false  hopes,  and 
false  promise?,  my  wonder  is,  not  that  married  folks  don't  get  on 
better,  but  that  they  get  on  as  well  as  they  do.  If  they  regard 
matrimony  as  a  lottery,  is  it  any  wonder  more  blanks  than  prizes 
turn  up  on  the  wheel  ?  Now,  my  idea  of  mating  a  man  is,  that  it  is 
the  same  as  matching  a  horse ;  the  mate  ought  to  have  the  same 
spirit,  the  same  action,  the  same  temper,  and  the  same  training. 
Each  should  do  his  part,  or  else  one  soon  becomes  strained, 
sprained,  and  spavined,  or  broken  winded,  and  that  one  is  about 
',he  best  in  a  general  way  that  suffers  the  most. 

Don't  be  shocked  at  the  comparison;  but  to  my  mind  a  splsn- 
tliferous  woman  and  a  first-chop  horse  is  the  noblest  works  of 
creation.  They  take  the  rag  off  the  bush  quite ;  a  woman  "  that 
will  come"  and  ahorse  that  "will  go"  ought  to  make  any  man 
happy.  Give  me  a  gall  that  all  I  have  to  say  to  is,  "  Quick,  pick 
up  chips  and  call  your  jather  to  dinner"  and  a  horse  that 
enables  yon  to  say,  "  I  am  thar."1  That's  all  I  ask.  Now,  just 
look  at  the  different  sorts  of  love-making  in  this  world.  First, 
there  is  a  boy  and  gall  love;  they  are  practising  the  gamut,  and  a 
great  bore  it  is  to  hear  and  see  them  ;  but  poor  little  things,  their 
whole  heart  and  soul  is  in  it,  as  they  were  the  year  before  on  a  doll 
or  a  top.  They  don't  know  a  heart  from  a  gizzard,  and  if  you  ask 
them  what  a  soul  is,  they  will  say  it  s  the  dear  sweet  soul  they, 
love.  It  begins  when  they  enter  the  dancing-school,  and  ends 
when  they  go  out  into  the  world  ;  but  after  all,  I  believe  it  is  the 
oi'l\  real- romn  '.e  in  life. 


THE     HONEYMOON.  281 

Then  there  is  young  maturity  love,  and  what  is  that  hulf  the 
time  based  on?  vanity,  vanity,  and  the.  deuce  a  thing  else.  The 
young  lady  is  handsome,  no,  that's  not  the  word,  she  is  beautiful, 
and  is  a  belle,  and  all  the  young  fellows  are  in  her  train.  To  win 
the  prize  is  an  object  of  ambition.  The  gentleman  rides  well,  hunts 
and  shoots  well,  and  does  everything  well,  and  moreover  he  is  a 
fau-'v  man,  and  all  the  girls  admire  him.  It  is  a  great  thing  to 
conquer  the  hero,  aint  it? 'and  distance  all  her  companions ;  and  it 
is  a  proud  thing  for  him  to  win 'the  prize  from  higher,  richer,  and 
more  distinguished  men  than  himself.  It  is  the  triumph  of  the  two 
sexes.  They  are  allowed  to  be  the  handsomest  couple  ever  mar- 
ried  in  that  church.  What  an  elegant  man,  what  a  lovely  woman, 
what  a  splendid  bride !  they  seemed  made  for  each  other !  how 
happy  they  both  are,  eyes  can't  show — words  can't  express  it ; 
they  are  the  admiration  of  all. 

If  it  is  in  England,  they  have  two  courses  of  pleasure  before 
them: — to  retire  to  a  country-house  or  travel.  The  latter  is  a  great 
bore,  it  exposes  people,  it  is  very  annoying  to  be  stared  at.  Soli- 
tude i*  the  thing.  They  are  all  the  world  to  each  other,  what  do 
they  desire  beyond  it — what  more  can  they  ask  ?  They  are  quite 
happy.  How  long  does  it  hist?  for  they  have  no  resources  beyond 
excitement.  Why,  it  lasts  till  the  first  juicy  day  comes,  and  that 
comes  soon  in  England,  and  the  bridegroom  don't  get  up  and  look 
out  of  the  window,  on  the  cloudy  sky,  the  falling  rain,  and  the  in- 
undated meadows,  and  think  to  himself,  "  well,  this  is  too  much 
bush,  aint  it?  I  wonder  what  de  Courcy  and  de  Lacy  and  de 
Devilcourt  are  about  to  day  ?  "  and  then  turn  round  with  a  yawn 
tiiat  nearly  dislocates  his  jaw.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  is  the  most 
happy  man  in  England,  and  his  wife  is  an  angel,  and  he  don't  throw 
himself  down  on  »  sofa  and  wish  they  were  back  in  town.  It  aint 
natural  he  should;  and  she  don't  say,  "Charles,  you  look  dull 
dear,"  nor  he  reply  '  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  it  is  devlish  dull 
here,  that's  a  fact,"  nor  she  say,  "  Why  you  are  very  complimen- 
tary'' nor  he  rejoin,  "No,  I  dont't  mean  it  as  a  compliment,  but 
to  state  it  as  a  fact,  what  that  Yankee,  what  is  his  name,  Sam  Slick, 
or  Jim  Crow,  or  Uncle  Tom,  or  somebody  or  another  calls  an 
established  fact !  "  Her  eyes  don't  fill  with  tears  at  that,  nor  docs 
she  retire  to  her  room  and  pout  and  have  a  good  cry  ;  why  should 
she  ?  she  is  so  happy,  and  when  the  honied  honeymoon  is  over, 
thev  will  return  to  town  and  all  will  be  sunshine  once  more. 

But  there  is  one  little  thing  both  of  them  forget,  which  they  find 
out  when  they  do  return.  They  have  rather,  just  a  little  over- 
looked,  or  undervalued  means,  and  they  can't  keep  such  an  estab- 
lishment as  they  desire,  or  equal  to  their  former  friends.  They  are 
both  no  longer 'single.  He  is  not  asked  so  often  where  he  used  to 
|.«  n-.r  cMirted  and  flattered  as  h?  Ifltely  was;  and  she  is  a  mm- 


282  T  H  K      II  O  N  K  T  M  O  O  N  . 

ried  woman  now,  and  the  beans  no  longer  cluster  around  her. 
p]neh  one  thinks  the  other  the  cause  of  this  dreadful  change.  It 
was  the  imprudent  and  unfortunate  match  did  it.  Affection  wag 
sacrificed  to  pride,  and  that  deity  can't  and  won't  help  them,  but 
takes  pleasure  in  tormenting  them.  First  comes  coldness,  and  then 
estrangement;  after  that  words  ensue,  that  don't  sound  like  the 
voice  of  true  love,  and  they  fish  on  their  own  hook,  seek  their  own 
r  medy,  take  their  own  road,  and  one  or  the  other,  perhaps  both, 
find  that  road  leads  to  the  devil. 

Then,  there  is  the  "  ring-fence  match,"  which  happens  every- 
where.  Two  estates  or  plantations,  or  farms  adjoin,  and  there  is 
an  only  son  in  one,  and  an  only  daughter  in  the  other;  and  the 
world,  and  fathers,  and  mothers,  think  what  a  suitable  match  it 
would  be,  and  what  a  grand  thing  a  ring-fence  is,  and  they  cook  it 
np  in  the  most  fashionable  style,  and  the  parties  most  concerned 
take  no  interest  in  it,  and  having  nothing  particular  to  object  to, 
marry.  Well,  strange  to  say,  half  the  time  it  doirt  turn  out  bad, 
for  as  they  don't  expect  much,  they  can't  be  much  disappointed. 
Thev  get  after  a  while  to  love  each  'other  from  habit ;  and  finding 
qualities  they  didn't  look  for,  end  by  getting  amazin'  fond  of  each 
other. 

Next  is  a  ca^h-match.  Well,  that's  a  cheat.  It  begins  in  dis- 
simulation, and  ends  in  detection  and  punishment.  I  don't  pity  the 
parties;  it  serves  them  right.  They  meet  without  pleasure,  and 
part  without  pain.  The  first  time  4  went  to  Nova  Scotia  to  vend 
clocks,  I  fell  in  with  a  German  officer,  who  married  a  woman  with 
a  large  fortune  ;  she  had  as  much  as  three  hundred  pounds.  He 
could  never  speak  of  it  without  getting  up,  walking  round  the  room, 
rubbing  his  hands,  and  smacking  his  lips.  The  greatest  man  he 
ever  saw,  his  own  prince,  had  only  five  hundred  a-year,  and  his 
daughters  had  to  select  and  buy  the  chickens,  wipe  the*  glasses, 
starch  their  own  muslins,  and  see  the  fine  soap  made.  One  half 
of  them  were  protestants,  and  the  other  half  Catholics,  so  as  to  bait 
the  hooks  for  royal  fish  of  either  creed.  They  were  poor  and  proud, 
but  he  hadn't  a  morsel  of  pride  in  him,  for  he  had  condescended  to 
marry  the  daughter  of  a  staff  surgeon  ;  and  she  warn't  poor,  for 
she  had  three  hundred  pounds.  He  couldn't  think  of  nothin'  but 
his  fortune.  He  spent  the  most  of  his  time  in  building  castles,  not 
in  Germany,  but  in  the  air,  for  they  cost  nothing.  He  used  to 
delight  to  go  marooning*  for  a  day  or  of  two  in  Maitland  settle- 
ment, where  old  soldiers  are  located,  and  measured  every  man  he 
met  by  the  gauge  of  his  purse.  "  Dat  poor  teevil,*'  he  would  say, 
'•is  wort  twenty  pounds,  well  I  am  good  for  tree  hundred,  in  gold 
and  silver,  and  provinch  notes,  and  de  mortgage  on  Burkit  Crowse's 

*  Marooning  differs  from  pic-nicking  in  this — the  former  continues  severaJ 
days,  the  other  lasts  but  one 


THE     HONKYMOOX.  2S3 

farm  for  twenty-five  pounds  ten  shillings  and  eleven  pence  halfpenny 
—fifteen  times  as  much  as  he  is,  pesides  ten  pounds  interest."  If 
he  rode  a  horse,  he  calculated  how  many  he  could  purchase ;  and 
h-i  found  they  would  make  an  everlastin'  cahoot.*  If  he  sailed  in 
a  boat,  he  counted  the  flotilla  he  could  buy  ;  and  at  last  he  used 
to  think,  "  Veil  now,  if  my  vrow  would  go  tode  depot  (graveyard) 
.'at  is  near  to  de  church,  Goten  Ilimmel,  mid  my  fortune  1  could 
marry  anv  pody  I  liked,  who  had  shtock  of  cattle,  shtock  of  clothes, 
and  shtock  in  de  park,  pesides  farms  and  foresht  lands,  and  dyke 
lands,  and  meadow  lands,  and  vind-mill  and  vater-mill ;  but  dere 
is  no  chanse  she  shall  die,  for  I  was  dirty  (thirty)  when  I  married 
her,  and  she  was  dirty-too  (thirty-two.)  Tree  hundred  pounds! 
Veil,  it's  a  great  shum  ;  but  vat  shall  I  do  mid  it.  If  1  leave  him 
mid  a  lawyer,  he  say,  Mr.  Von  Sheik,  you  gub  it  to  me.  If  I  put 
him  into  de  pank,  den  te  ting  ishall  break,  and  tny  forten  go  smash, 
squash — vot  dey  call  von  shilling  in  de  pound.  If  1  lock  him  up, 
den  soldier  steal  and  desert  away,  and  conetry  people  shall  hide 
him,  and  1  w«ill  not  find  him  no  more.  I  shall  mortgage  it  on  a 
farm.  1  feel  vary  goot,  vary  pig,  and  vary  rich,  if  I  would  not 
lose  my  bay  and  commission,  I  w<>uld  kick  de  colonel,  kissjiis  vife, 
and  put  my  cane  thro'  his  vinder.  I  don't  care  von  damn  for 
nopoty  no  more  " 

Well,  his  wife  soon  after  that  took  a  day  and  died ;  and  he  fol- 
lowed hef  to  the  grave.  It  was  the  first  time  he  ever  gave  her  pre- 
cedence, for  he  was  a  disciplinarian ;  he  knew  the  difference  of 
"  rank  and  file,"  and  liked  to  give  the  word  of  command,  "  Hear 
rank,  take  open  order — march  ! '  Well,  I  condoled  with  him  about 
his  loss.  Sais  he:  "Mr.  Shlick,  I  didn't  lose  much  by  her:  The 
soldier  carry  her  per  order,  de  pand  play  for  noting,  and  de  crape 
on  de  arm  came  from  her  ponnet." 

"  But  the  loss  of  your  wife  '?"  said  I. 

Well,  that  excited  him,  and  he  began  to  talk  Hessian.  "  JtAes 
renovare  dolorem,"  said  he. 

"  I  don't  understand  High  Dutch,'  sais  I,  "  when  it's  spoke  so 
almighty  fast.7' 

"  it's  a  ted  language,"  said  he. 

I  was  a  goin  to  tell  him  I  didn't  know  the  dead  had  any  language, 
but  I  bit  in  my  breath. 

"Mr.  Shlick,"  said  he,  "  de  vife  is  gone,"  (and  clapping  his  waist- 
coat pocket  with  his  hand,  and  grinning  like  a  chissy  cat)  he  added, 
"  but  de  moiiixh  remain." 

Yes,  such  fellows  as  Von  She  k  don't  call  this  ecclesiastical  and 
civil  contract,  wedlock.  They  use  a  word  that  expresses  their 
meaning  better— ma,tri-money.  Well,  even  money  aint  ail  gold, 

*  Cah.xjt  is  one  of  th«  v?w  coinage,  and   ;n  Mexico,  means  a  band,  or  caval 


284  T  II  K     H  O  N  K  Y  M  O  O  X  . 

for  there  are  two  hundred  and  forty  nasty,  dirty,  mulatto-looking 
copper  pennies  in  a  sovereign  ;  and  they  have  the  affectation  to 
call  the  filthy  incrustation  if  they  happen  to  Ue  ancient  coin,  verd 
antique.  Well,  fine  words  are  like  fine  dresses ;  one  often  covers 
ideas  that  ain't  nice,  and  the  other  sometimes  conceals  garments 
that  are  a  little  the  worse  for  wear.  Ambition  is  just  as  poor  a 
motive.  Jt  can  only  be  gratified  at  the  expense  of  a  journey  over 
a  rough  road,  and  he  is  a  fool  who  travels  it  by  a  borrowed  light, 
and  generally  finds  he  takes  a  rise  out  of  himself. 

Then  there  is  a  class  like  Von  Sheik,  "  who  feel  so  pig  and  so 
hugeaciously  grand iferous,"  they  look  on  a  wife's  fortune  with 
contempt.  The  independent  man  scorns  connection,  station,  and 
money.  He  has  got  all  three,  and  more  of  each  than  is  sufficient 
for  a  dozen  men.  He  regards  with  utter  indifference  the  opinion 
of  the  world,  and  its  false  notions  of  life.  He  can  afford  to  please 
himself;  he  does  not  stoop  if  he  marries  beneath  his  own  rank  ; 
for  he  is  able  to  elevate  any  wife  to  his.  He  is  a  great  admirer  of 
beauty,  which  is  confined  to  no  circle  and  no  region..  The  world  is 
before  him,  and  he  will  select  a  woman  to  gratify  himself  and  not 
another.  He  has  the  right  and  ability  to  do  so,  and  he  fulfils  his 
intention.  Now  an  independent  man  is  an  immovable  one,  until 
lie  is  proved,  and  a  soldier  is  brave  until  the  day  of  trial  comes. 
He,  however,  is  independent  and  brave  enough  to  set  the  opinion 
of  the  world  at  defiance,  and  he  marries.  Until  then,  society  is 
passive,  but  when  defied  and  disobeyed,  it  is  active,  bitter,  and 
relentless. 

The  conflict  is  only  commenced — marrying  is  merely  firing  the 
first  gun.  The  battle  has  yet  to  be  fought.  If  he  can  do  without 
the  world,  the  world  can  do  without  him,  but.  if  he  enters  it  again 
bride  in  hand,  he  must  fight  his  way  inch  by  inch,  and  step  by  step. 
She  is  slighted  and  he  is  stung  to  the  quick.  She  is  ridiculed  and 
he  is  mortified  to  death.  He  is  able  to  meet  open  resistance,  but 
he  is  for  ever  in  dread  of  an  ambuscade.  He  sees  a  sneer  in  every 
smile,  he  fears  an  insult  in  every  whisper.  The  unmeaning  jest 
must  have  a  hidden  point  for  him.  Politeness  seems  cold,  even 
good-nature  looks  like  the  insolence  of  condescension.  If  his  wife 
is  addressed,  it  is  manifestly  to  draw  her  out.  If  her  society  is  not 
sought,  it  is  equally  plain  there  is  a  conspiracy  to  place' her  in 
Coventry.  To  defend  her  properly,  and  to  put  her  on  her  guard  it 
is  necessary  he  should  know  her  weak  points  himself. 

But,  alas,  in  this  painful  investigation,  his  ears  are  wounded  by 
false  accents,  his  eyes  by  fulse  motions  and  vulgar  attitudes,  he 
finds  ignorance  where  ignorance  is  absurd,  and  knowledge  wher« 
knowledge  is  shame,  and  what  is  worse,  this  distressing  criticism 
has  been  forced  upon  him,  and  he  has  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  beauty  without  intelligence,  is  the  most  valueless  attribute  of 


A     DISH     OF     CLAMS.  285 

a  woman.  Aias,  the  world  is  an  argus-eyed,  many-headed,  sleep. 
less,  heartless  monster.  The  independent  man,  if  he  would  retain 
his  independence,  must  retire  with  his  \\ife  to  his  own  home,  and 
it  would  be  a  pity  if  in  thinking  of  his  defeat  he  was  to  ask  himself, 
\V;IN  my  pretty  dull  worth  this  terrible  struggle  after  all  1  wouldn't 
it  ?  Well  I  pity  that  man,  fbr  at  most  he  has  only  done  a  foolish 
thing,  and  he  has  not  passed  through  life  without  being  a  public 
benefactor.  He  has  held  a  reversed  lamp.  While  he  has  walked  in 
the  dark  himself,  he  has  shed  light  on  the  path  of  others. 

Ah,  Sophy,  when  you  read  this,  and  I  know  you  will,  you'll  say 
•*hat  a  dreadful  picture  you  have  drawn  ;  it  ain't  like  you — you 
are  too  good-natured,  1  can't  believe  you  ever  wrote  so  spite- 
ful an  article  as  this,  and  woman  like,  make  more  complimentary 
remarks  than  1  deserve.  Well,  it  ain't  like  me.  that's  a  fact,  but 
it  is  like  the  world  for  all  that.  Well  then  you  will  puzzle  your  little 
head,  whether  after  all  there  is  any  happiness  in  married  life,  won't 
you  ? 

Well,  I  will  answer  that  question. '  I  believe  there  may  be  and 
are  many  very  many  happy  marriages ;  but  then  people  must  be 
as  near  as  possible  in  the  same  station  of  life,  their  tempers  com- 
patible, their  religious  views  the  same,  their  notions  of  the  world 
similar,  and  their  union,  based  on  mutual  affection,  entire  mutual 
confidence,  and  what  is  of  the  utmost  consequence,  the  greatest  pos- 
sible mutual  respect.  Can  you  feel  this  towards  me,  Sophy,  can 
you,  dear  ?  Then  be  quick — "  pick  up  chips  and  call  your  father 
to  dinner." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
A   DISH   OF   CLAMS. 

EATING  is  the  chief  occupation  at  sea.  It's  the  great  topic,  as 
well  as  the  great  business  of  the  day,  especially  in  small  sailing 
vessels,  like  the  'Black  Hawk;'  although  anything  is  good  enough 
"or  me,  when  I  can't  get  nothin  better,  which  is  the  true  philosophy 
)f  life.  If  there  is  a  good  dish  and  a  bad  one  set  before  me,  I  am 
something  of  a  rat,  1  always  choose  the  best. 

There  are  few  animals,  as  there  are  few  men,  that  we  can't  learn 
something  from.  Now  a  rat,  although  I  hate  him  like  pyson,  is  a 
travelling  gentleman,  and  accommodau-s  himself  to  circumstances. 
He  likes  to  visit  people  that  are  well  off,  and  has  a  free  and  easy 
wav  about  him.  and  don't  require  an  introduction.  He  does  not 


386  *      DISH     OF     CLAMS. 

wait  to  be  pressed  to  eat,  but  helps  himself,  and  does  justice  to  his 
host  and  his  viands.  When  hungry,  he  will  walk  into  the  larder, 
and  take  a  lunch  or  a  supper  without  requiring  any  waiting  on. 
He  is  abstemious,  or  rather  temperate  in  his  drinking.  Molasses 
and  syrup  he  prefers  to  strong  liquors,  and  ho.  is  a  connoisseur  in 
a!!  things  pertaining  to  the  dessert.  He  is  fond  of  ripe  fruit,  and 
dry  or  liquid  preserves,  the  latter  of  which  he  eats  with  cream,  foj 
which  purpose  he  forms  a  passage  to  the  dairy.  He  prides  him- 
self on  his  knowledge  of  cheese,  and  will  tell  you  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  which  is  the  best  in  point  of  flavor  or  richness.  Still  he 
is  not  proud — he  visits  the  poor  when  there  is  no  gentlemen  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  can  accommodate  himself  to  coarse  fare  and 
poor  cookery.  To  see  him  in  one  of  these  hovels,  you  would 
think  he  never  knew  anything  better,  for  he  has  a  capital  appetite, 
and  can  content  himself  with  mere  bread  and  water.  lie  is  a  wise 
traveller,  too.  He  is  up  to  the  ways  of  the  world,  and  is  aware 
of  the  disposition  there  is  everywhere  to  entrap  strangers.  He 
knows  h»\v  to  take  care  of  himself.  Jf  he  is  ever  deceived,  it  is  by 
treachery.  He  is  seized  sometimes  at  the  hospitable  board,  and 
assassinated,  or  perhaps  cruelly  poisoned.  But  what  skill  can 
ensure  safety  where  confidence  is  so  shamefully  abused  ?  lie  is  a 
capital  sailor,  even  bilge-water  don't  make  him  squeamish,  and  he 
is  so  good  a  ju^ge  of  the  sea- worthiness  of  a  ship,  that  he  leaves 
her  at  the  first  p'>rt,  if  he  finds  she  is  leaky  or  weak.  Few  archi 
tects,  on  the  other  hand,  have  such  a  knowledge  of  the  stability  of 
a  house  as  he  has.  He  examines  its  foundations  thoroughly,  and 
if  he  perceives  any,  the  slightest  chance  of  its  falling,  he  retreats  in 
season,  and  leaves  it  to  its  fate.  In  short,  he  is  a  model  traveller, 
and  much  may  be  learned  from  him. 

But  then,  who  is  perfect1?  He  has  some  serious  faults,  from 
which  we  may  also  take  instructive  lessons,  so  as  to  avoid  them. 
He  runs  all  over  a  house,  sits  up  late  at  night,  and  makes  a  devil 
)f  a  noise.  He  is  a  nasty,  cross-grained  critter,  and  treacherous 
even  to  those  who  feed  him  best.  He  is  very  dirty  in  his  habits, 
and  spoils  as  much  food  as  he  eats.  If  a  door  ain't  left  open  for 
him,  he  cuts  right  through  it,  and  if  by  accident  he  is  locked  in,  ho 
won't  wait  to  be  let  out,  but  hacks  a  passage  slap  through  the  floor 
Not  content  wiih  being  entertained  himself,  he  brings  a  whole  reti- 
nue with  him.  and  actilly  eats  a  feller  out  of  house  and  home,  and 
gets  a.«  sassy  as  a  free  nigger.  He  gets  into  the  servant-gall's  bed- 
room sometimes  at  night,  and  nearly  scares  her  to  death  under 
pretence  he  wants  her  candle;  and  K>metimes  jumps  right  on  to 
the  bed,  and  says  she  is  handsome  enough  to  eat,  gives  her  a  nip 
t»n  the  nose,  sneezes  on  her  with  great  contempt,  and  tells  her  sh-> 
tukes  snuff.  The  tact  is,  he  is  hated  everywhere  he  travels  for  his 


A     DISH     OF     CLAMS.  287 

ugly  behavior  as  much  as  an  Englishman,  ind  that  is  a  great  deal 
more  than  sin  is  by  half  the  world. 

Now,  being  fond  of  natur,  I  try  to  take  lessons  from  all  created 
critters.  I  copy  the  rat's  travelling  knowledge  and  good  points  as 
near  as  possible,  and  strive  to  avoid  the  bad.  I  confine  myself  to 
the  company  apartments,  and  them  that's  allotted  to  me.  Havin 
no  family,  1  take  no  body  with  me  a-visitin,  keep  good  hours,  and 
give  as  little  trouble  as  possible;  and  as  for  goin  to  the  servant 
gall's  room,  under  pretence  of  wanting  a  candle,  I'd  scorn  such  ai 
action.  Now,  as  there  is  lots  nf  good  things  in  this  vessel,  rat-like 
I  intend  to  have  a  good  dinner. 

"  Sorrow,  what  have  you  got  for  us  to-day  ?" 

"  There  is  the  moose-meat,  Massa." 

"  Let  that  hang  over  the  stern,  we  shall  get  tired  of  it." 

"  Den,  Massa,  dar  is  de  Jesuit-priest ;  by  golly,  Massa,  dat  is 
a  funny  name.  Yah,  yah,  yah  !  dis  here  niggar  was  took  in  dat, 
time.  Dat  ar  a  fac." 

"  Well,  the  turkey  had  better  hang  over,  too." 

"Sposen  I  git  you  a  fish  dinner  to-day,  Massa?" 

"  What  have  you  got1?" 

"  Some  tobacco  pipes,  Massa,  and  some  miller's  thumbs.  *  The 
rascal  expected  to  take  a  rise  out  of  me,  but  1  was  too  wide  <vwake 
for  him.  Cutler  and  the  Doctor,  strange  to  say,  fell  into  thp  trap, 
and  required  an  explanation,  which  delighted  Sorrow  amaz'ngly. 
Cutler,  though  an  old  fisherman  on  the  coast,  didn't  know  these  fish 
at  all.  And  ihe  Doctor  had  some  difficulty  in  recognising  th^m, 
under  names  he  had  never  heard  of  before. 

••  Li-t  us  have  them." 

"  Well,  th.-re  is  a  fresh  salmon,  Massa?" 

"  Let  us  have  steaks  off  of  it.  Do  them  as  I  told  you,  and  tata 
care  the  paper  don't  catch  fire,  and  don't  let  the  coals  smoke  'em. 
Serve  some  lobster  sauce  with  them,  but  use  no  butter,  it  spoils 
salmon.  Let  us  have  some  hoss-radish  with  it." 

'•  Hoss  radish !  yah,  yah,  yah  !  Why,  Massa,  whar  under  the 
sun,  does  you  suppose  now  I  could  git  hoss-radish,  on  board  ob  dis 
1  Black  Hawk  ?'  *De  sea  broke  into  my  garden  de  oder  night, 
and  kill  ebery  created  ting  in  it.  Lord  a  massy,  Massa,  you 
know  dis  is  noten  but  a  fishin-craft,  salt  pork  and  taters  one  day, 
and  salt  beef  and  taters  next  day,  den  twice  laid  for  third  day,  and 
den  begin  agin.  Why,  dere  neber  has  been  no  cooking  on  board 
of  dis  here  fore  and-after  till  you  yourself  corned  on  board.  Dey 
don't  know  nuffin.  Dey  is  as*  stupid,  and  ignorant  as  coots." 

Here  his  eye  rested  on  the  Captain,  when,  with  the  greatest 
coolness,  he  gave  me  a  wink,  and  went  on  without  stopping. 

"Scept  Massa  Captain,"  said  he,  "and  he  do  know  what  is 
gord,  dat  ar  a  fact,  but  he  don't  like  to  be  ticular,  so  he  takes  sam« 


S88  A     DISH     OF     CLAMS. 

fare  as  men,  and  dey  isn't  jealous.  '  Sorrow,'  sais  he,  '  make  no 
stinction  for  me.  I  is  used  to  better  tings,  but  I'll  put  up  wid  same 
fare  as  men.' " 

"  Sorrow,"  said  the  Captain,  ';  how  can  you  tell  such  a  bare- 
faced falsehood.  What  an  impudent  liar  you  are,  to  talk  so  before 
my  face.  I  never  said  anything  of  the  kind  to  you." 

"Why,  Massa,  now,"  said  Sorrow,  "dis  here  child  is  /vide 
awake,  that  ar  a  fac,  and  no  mistake,  and  it's  onpossible  he  is  a 
dreaming.  What  is  it  you  did  say  den,  when  you  ordered  dinner  ]" 

"  I  gave  my  orders  and  said  nothing  more." 

"  Exactly,  Massa,  I  knowed  I  was  right ;  dat  is  de  identical  ting 
I  said.  You  was  used  to  better  tings ;  you  made  no  stinctions, 
and  ordered  all  the  same  for  boaf  of  you.  Hoss-raddish,  Massa 
Slick,"  said  he,  "I  wish  I  had  some,  or  could  get  some  ashore 
for  you,  but  hoss-raddish  ain't  French,  and  dese  folks  nebber  hear 
tell  ob  him."1 

"  Make  some." 

"  Oh,  Massa,  now  you  is  makin'  fun  ob  dis  poor  nigger." 

"  i  am  not.  Take  a  turnip,  scrape  it  the  same  as  the  raddish, 
into  fine  shaving,  mix  it  with  fresh  mustard,  and  a  little  pepper 
and  vinegar,  and  you  can't  tell  it  from  't'other." 

"  By  golly,  Massa,  but  dat  are  a  wrinkle.  Oh,  how  Misses 
would  a  lubbed  you.  It  was  'loud  all  down  sout  dere  was  a  great 
deal  ob  'finernent  in  her.  Nobody  was  good  nufffor  her  dere  ;  dey 
had  no  taste  for  cookin'.  She  was  mighty  high  'among  de  ladies  in 
de  instep,  but  not  a  mossel  ob  pride  to  de  niggers.  Oh,  you 
would  a  walked  right  into  de  cockles  ob  her  heart.  If  you  had 
tredded  up  to  her  she  would  a  married  you,  and  gub  you  her  tree 
plantations,  arid  eight  hundred  niggers,  and  ebery  ting,  and  order 
dinner  for  \  ou  herself.  Oh,  wouldn't  she  been  done,  gone  'stracted, 
when  you  showed  her  how  she  had  shot  her  grandmother?  wouldn't 
she?  I'll  be  dad  fetched  if  she  wouldn't."* 

"  Have  you  any  other  fish  '?"  1  said. 

"  On,  yes,  Massa,  some  grand  fresh  clams." 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  cook  them  ?" 

"  Massa,"  said  he,  putting  his  hands  under  his  white  apron,  and, 
sailor-like,  giving  a  hitch  up  to  his  trousers,  preparatory  to  stretch- 
ing himself  straight;  "Massa,  dis  here  nigger  is  a  rambitious 
nigger,  and  he  kersaits  he  can  take  de  shine  out  ob  any  nigger  that 
ever  played  de  juice  harp,  in  cookin'  clams.  Misses  'structed  me 
husself.  Massa,  1  shall  nebber  forget  dat  time  de  longest  day  I 
Jive.  She  sent  for  me,  she  did,  and  I  went  in.  and  she  was  Jyin'  on 
de  sofa,  lookin'  pale  as  de  inside  of  parsimmon  seed,  for  de  wedder 
was  brilin'  hot. 

*  Shooting  one's  granny,  or  grandmother,  means  fancying  you  have  discover 
cd  vrnat  was  well  known  before. 


A     DISH     OF     CLAMS. 

M  '  Sorrow,'  said  she. 

"•Yes,  Missus,'  said  I. 

"'  Put  de  pillar  under  my  head.  Dat  is  right,'  said  she;  'tank 
jou.  Sorrow.' 

"Oh,  Massa,  how  different  she  was  fr:>m  Abulitinists  to  Boston. 
She  always  said,  tankee,  for  ebery  ting.  Now  Ablutinists  say, 
'  Han«l  me  dat  piller,  you  darned  rascal,  and  den  make  yourself 
skarse ;  you  is  as  black  as  the  debbil's  hind  leg.'  And  deu  she 
say — 

"  v  Trow  dat  scarf  over  my  ankles,  to  keep  de  bominable  flies  off. 
Tankee,  Sorrow  ;  you  is  far  more  handier  dan  Aunt  Dolly  is.  Dat 
are  nigga  is  so  rumbustious,  she  jerks  my  close  so,  sometimes,  I 
tink  in  my  soul  she  will  pull  'em  off.'  Den  she  shut  her  eye,  and 
she  gabe  a  cold  shiver  all  ober. 

"'Sorrow,'  says  she,  'I  am  goin'  to  take  a  long,  berry  long 
journey,  to  de  far  off  counteree.' 

"  '  Oh,  dear  me  !  Mi-sus,'  says  I ;  '  Oh  Lord,  Missus,  you  ain't 
agoin'  to  die,  is  you  ?'  and  I  fell  down  on  iny  knees,  and  kissed  her 
hand,  and  said  'Oh,  Missus;  don't  die,  please  Missus'?  What  will 
become  ob  dis  nigger  if  you  do?  If  de  Lord,  in  his  goodness,  take 
you  away,  let  me  go  wid  you,  Missus?'  and  I  was  so  sorry  I  boo- 
hooed  riyht  out,  and  groaned,  and  wipy  eye  like  courtin  amost. 

'• '  Why,  Uncle  Sorrow,'  said  she,  '  I  isn't  a  goin'  to  die;  what 
ni;ikes  you  tink  dat?  Stand  up:  1  do  railly  believe  you  do  lub 
your  Missus.  Go  to  dat  closet,  and  pour  yourself  out  a  glass  ob 
whiskey  ;'  and  I  goes  to  de  closet — just  dis  way — and  dere  stood 
de  bottle  and  a  glass — as  dis  here  one  do — and  1  helpt  myself  dis 
fashen. 

"  '  What  made  you  think  I  was  a  goin'  for  to  die,'  said  she  ?  '  do 
I  look  so  ill  ?' 

"  '  No,  Missus ;  but  dat  is  de  way  de  Boston  preacher  dat  staid 
here  last  week,  spoke  to  me:  de  long-legged,  sour  face,  Yankee 
villain.  He  is  uglier  and  yallerer  den  Aunt  Phillissy  Anne's 
crooked-necked  squashes.  I  don't  want  to  see  no  more  ob  such 
fellers,  pysonin  de  minds  ob  de  niggers  here.' 

"  Says  he,  '  my  man.' 

"  '  I  isn't  a  man,'  sais  I,  '  I  is  only  a  nigger.' 

"  '  Poor,  ignorant  wretch,'  says  he. 

"'Massa,'  sais  I,  'you  has  waked  up  de  wrong  passenger  dis 
present  time.  I  isn't  poor,  I  ab  plenty  to  eat,  and  plenty  to  drink, 
and  two  great  tiong  wenches  to  help  me  cook,  and  plenty  ob  fine 
fill  shirt,  longin  to  my  old  Massa,  and  bran  new  hat;  and  when  I 
wants  money  I  asks  Missus,  and  she  gives  it  to  me;  and  1  ab  white 
oberseer  to  shoot  game  for  me.  When  I  wants  wild  ducks  or 
venison,  all  I  got  to  do  is  to  say  to  dat  Yankee  obersee.r,  'Missus 
and  1  want  some  deer  or  some  canvas-back ;  I  spect  you  had  better 


290  A     DISH     OF     C  L  A  M  3  . 

go  look  for  some.  Massa  Buccra '  No,  no,  Massa,  I  ain't  so 
Ignorant  as  to  let  any  man  come  over  me  to  make  seed  corn  out  ob 
me.  If  you  want  to  see  wretches,  go  to  Jamestown,  and  see  de 
poor  white  critters,  dat  ab  to  do  all  dere  own  work  dey selves,  cause 
dey  are  so  poor  dey  ab  no  niggers  to  do  it  for  em.' 

'"  Sais  he,  'hah  you  ebber  tort  ob  dat  long  long  journey  dat  is 
afore  you'?  to  dat  far  oft*  coimteree  wh^re  you  will  be  mancipated 
and  free,  where  de  weary  hab  no  rest,  and  de  wicked  hab  to  labor? 

"  '  Down  to  Boston,  I  suppose,  Massa,'  sais  I,  'among  dern  pen- 
tentionists  and  ablutionlsts.  Massa,  ablution  is  a  mean,  nasty,  dirty 
ting,  and  don't  suit  niggers  what  hab  good  Missus  like  rne,  and  I 
won't  take  dat  journey,  and  I  hate  dat  cold  country,  and  I  want 
nottin  to  do  wid  mansipationists.' 

"  '  It  tain't  dat,'  sais  he  •  its  up  above.' 

"  '  What,'  sais  I,  'up  dere  in  de  mountains?  What  onder  de  sun 
should  1  go  dere  for  to  be  froze  to  defth.  or  to  be  voured  by  wild 
beasts  Massa,  I  won't  go  no  where  widout  dear  Missus  goes.' 

"'I  mean  Ileaben,'  he  said,  'where  all  are  free  and  all  equal: 
where  joy  is,  and  sorrow  enters  not.' 

"  '  What,'  sais  I,  'Joy  in  Ilenben  ?  I  don't  believe  one  word  ob 
it.  Joy  was  de  greatest  tief  on  all  dese  tree  plantations  of 
Missus;  he  stole  more  chicken,  and  corn,  and  backey,  dan  his  great 
bull  neck  was  worth,  and  when  he  ran  off",  Missus  wouldn't  let  no 
one  look  for  him.  Jov  in  Ileaben,  eh  !  and  Sorrow  neber  go  dere. 
Well,  I  clare  now!  Yah,  yah,  yah,  Massa,  you  is  fool  in  dis  here 
niggar  now,  I  know  you  is,  when  you  say  Joy  is  dead  and  gone  to 
Ileaben,  and  dis  child  is  shut  out  for  ebber.  Massa,'  sais  I,  '  me 
and  Missus  don't  'low  ablution  talk  here,  on  no  account  whatsom- 
ever ;  de  only  lammin  we  lows  of  is  whippin  fellows  who  tice  nig- 
gars  to  rections,  and  de  slaves  of  dis  plantation  will  lam  you  as 
sure  as  you  is  bawn,  for  dey  lub  Missus  dearly.  You  had  better 
kummence  de  long  journey  usself.  Sallust,  bring  out  dis  gintleman 
hoss  ?  and  Plutarch,  go  fetch  de  saddle-bag  down.' 

"  I  led  his  hoss  by  where  de  dogs  was,  and,  sais  I,  '  Massa,  I  can't 
help  larfin  no  how  I  can  fix  it,  at  dat  ar  story  you  told  me  about 
dat  young  rascal  Joy.  Dat  story  do  smell  rader  tall,  dat  are  a  foe ; 
yah,  yah,  yah,'  and  I  fell  down  and  rolled  ober  and  ober  on  do 
grass,  and  it's  lucky  T  did,  for  as  I  dodged  he  fetched  a  back  handed 
blow  at  me  wid  his  hunt-in  whip,  that  would  a  cut  my  head  otT,  if 
it  had  looked  me  round  my  neck. 

"  My  Missus  larfed  right  out  like  any  ting,  tho'  it  was  so  hot,  and 
when  Missus  larf,  I  always  know  she  is  good-natured. 

"  '  Sorrow,'  said  Missus,  '  I  am  afraid  you  is  more  rogue  dan 
fool.' 

" '  Missus,'  sais  I,  '  I  nebber  stole  the  vally  of  a  pin's  head  off  ob 
dis  plantation.  I  scorn  to  do  such  a  nasty,  dirty,  mean  action,  amt 


A     DISH      OF     CLAMS.  291 

you  so  kind  as  to  gib  me  more  nor  I  want,  and  you  knows  dat, 
Missus,  you  knows  it,  oderwise  you  wouldn't  send  me  to  de  bank 
instead  ob  white  oberseer,  Mr.  Succata-h,  for  six,  seben,  or  eighv 
hundred  dollars  at  a  time.  But  dere  is  too  much  stealin  goiny  ot 
here,  and  \  ou  and  1,  Missus,  must  be  more  ticklar.  You  is  too  dul 
gent  altogether.' 

44 '  1  didn't  mean  that,  Sorrow,'  she  said,  'I  don't  mean  stealin.' 
4'  •  Well,  Missus,  '  1's  glad  to  hear  dat,  it'  you  will  let  me  ab  per 
mission  den,  I  will  drink  you  good  helf.' 

U4  Missus,'  sais  I,  41  was  so  busy  talkin,  and  so  scared  about 
your  helf,  and  dere  was  no  hurry,'  and  1  slept  near  to  her  side, 
where  she  could  see  me,  and  1  turned  de  bottle  up,  and  advanced 
dis  way,  for  it  hadn't  no  more  dan  what  old  Cloe's  thimble  would 
hold,  ji>t  like  dis  uottle. 

k4 '  Why,'  said  she,  (and  she  smiled,  and  I  knowed  she  was  good- 
natured.)  *  dere  is  nuttin  dere,  see  if  dere  isn't  some  in  de  oder 
bottle,'  and  1  went  back  and  set  it  down,  and  took  it  up  to  her,  and 
poured  it  out  dis  way.' 

*•  Slick,"  said  Cutler,  "  I  am  astonished  at  you ;  you  are  encourag- 
ing that  black  rascal  in  drinking,  and  allowing  him  to  make  a  beast 
of  himself,"  and  he  went  on  deck  to  attend  to  his  duty,  saying  as 
he  shut  the  door,  "  that  fellow  will  prate  all  day  if  you  allow  him." 
{Sorrow  followed  him  with  a  very  peculiar  expression  of  eye  as  he 
retired. 

••  Mussa  Captain,"  said  he,  ''as  sure  as  de  world  is  an  ablution- 
ist,  dat  is  just  de  way  dey  talk.  Dey  call  us  colored  breddren 
when  dey  tice  us  otF  from  home,  and  den  dey  call  us  black  lascals 
and  beasts.  I  wish  1  was  to  home  agin,  Yankees  treat  dere  col- 
ored breddren  like  dogs,  dat  is  a  fact ;  but  he  is  excellent  man, 
Mu--a  Captain,  berry  g'A>d  man,  and  though  1  don't  believe  it's  a 
possible  ting  Joy  is  in  hebben,  1  is^certain  de  Captain,  when  de 
Lord  be  good  nuffto  take  him,  will  go  dere." 

'•The  Captain  is  right,"  said  1,  "Sorrow,  put  down  that  bottle; 
you  have  had  more  than  enough  already — put  it  down  ;"  but  he 
had  no  idea  of  obeying,  and  held  on  to  it. 

44  if  you  don't  put  that  down,  Sorrow,"  I  said,  "  I  will  break  it 
over  vour  head." 

"  Oh  !  Massa,"  said  he,  "  dat  would  be  a  sin  to  waste  dis  olorife- 
rons  rum  dat  way  ;  just  let  me  drink  it  first,  and  den  I  will  stand, 
and  you  may  break  the  bottle  on  my  head;  it  can't  hurt  niggur  s 
head,  only  cut 'a  little  wool."  „ 

"  Come,  no  more  of  this  nonsense,"  I  said,  "  put  it  down,  and 
seeing  me  in  earnest,  he  did  so.  „ 

4-  Now,''  sais  J,  ';  tell  us  how  you  are  going  to  cook  the  clams. 
4-  Oh  !  Massa  "  said  he,  "  f\t  let  me  finish  de  story  about  de 
I  Lrned  it." 


292  A     DISH     OF     CLAMS. 

"  '  Sorrow,'  said  Missus,  '  I  am  going  to  take  a  long  journey  all 
de  way  to  Boston,  and  de  wedder  is  so  cold,  and  what  is  wus,  de 
people  is  so  cold,  it  makes  me  shudder,'  and  she  shivered  like  cold 
ague  fit,  and  I  was  afraid  she  would  unjoint  the  sofa. 

"  '  Don't  lay  too  close  to  them,  Missus,'  sais  I. 

"  '  What,'  said  she,  and  she  raised  herself  up  offob  de  pillar,  and 
she  larfed  and  rolled  ober  and  ober,  and  tosticated  about  almost  in 
a  conniption  fit.  'You  old  goose,'  said  she,  '\ou  onaccountable 
fool,'  and  den  she  larfed  and  rolled  ober  again,  I  tought  she  would 
a  tumbled  off  on  de  floor;  vdo  go  way,  vou  is  too  foolish  to  talk 
to,  but  turn  my  pillar  again.  Sorrow,'  said  she,  '  is  1  showin  of  my 
ankles,'  said  she,  'rollin  about  so  like  mad?' 

"  '  Little  bit,'  sais  I,  '  Missus.' 

" '  Den  put  dat  scarf  ober  my  feet  agin.  What  on  earth  does 
you  mean,  Sorrow,  bout  not  sleepin  too  close  to  de  Yankees.' 

"'Missus,'  sais  I,  'does  you  recollect  the  day  when  Zeno  was 
drownded  off  de  raft?  Well,  dat  day  Plutarch  was  lowed  to  visit 
next  plantation,  and  dey  bring  him  home  mazin  drunk — stupid  as 
owl,  his  mout  open  and  he  couldn't  speak,  and  his  eye  open  and  he 
couldn't  see.  Well,  as  you  don't  low  nigga  to  be  flogged,  Aunt 
Phillissy  Ann  and  I  lay  our  heads  together,  and  we  tought  we'd 
punish  him  ;  so  we  ondressed  him,  and  put  him  into  same  bed  wid 
poor  Zerio,  and  when  he  woke  up  in  de  morn  in,  he  was  most 
frighten  to  def,  and  had  de  cold  chills  on  him,  and  his  eye  stared 
out  ob  his  head,  and  h's  teeth  chattered  like  monkeys.  He  was  so 
frighten  we  had  to  burn  lights  for  a  week — he  tought  after  dat  he 
saw  Zeno  in  bed  wid  him  all  de  time.  It's  werry  dangerous, 
Missus,  to  sleep  near  cold  people,  like  Yankees  and  dead  niggars.' 

'•'Sorrow,  you  is  a  knave  1  believe,'  she  said. 

"  '  Knave,  knave,  Missus,'  I  sais,  '  I  don't  know  dat  word.' 

"  '  Sorrow,'  said  she,  '  1  is  agoin  to  take  you  wid  me.' 

'•  'Tank  you,  Missus,'  said  I  '  oh  !  bless  your  heart,  Missus.'  " 

"Sorrow,"  said  I,  sternly,  "do  you  ever  intend  to  tell  us  how 
you  are  going  to  cook  them  clams,  or  do  you  mean  to  chat  all 
day  ?" 

"  Jist  in  one  minute,  Massa,  I  is  jist  comin  to  it,"  said  he. 

"  '  Now,'  sais  Missas,  '  Sorrow,  it's  berry  genteel  to  travel  wid 
one's  own  cook ;  but  it  is  werry  ongenteel  when  de  cook  can't  do 
nuffin  super-superior;  for  bad  cooks  is  plenty  ebery where  widouk 
travellin  wid  em.  It  brings  disgrace.' 

'% '  Exactly,  Missus,'  sais  I,  '  when  3  ou  and  me  was  up  to  de  pre- 
sident's plantation,  his  cook  was  ruakin  plum  pudden,  he  was.  Now 
how  in  natur  does  you  rimagine  he  did  it?  why,  Missus,  he  actilly 
made  it  wid  flour,  de  stupid  tick-headed  fool,  instead  ob  de  crumbs 
ob  a  six  cent  stale  loaf,  he  did  ;  and  he  nebber  'pared  de  gredionts 
de  day  afore,  as  he  had  aughten  to  do.  It  was  nuffin  but  stick  jaw 


A     DISH     OF     CLAMS.  293 

-jist  fit  to  feed  turkeys  and  little  niggeroons  wid.  Did  you  ebbcr 
hear  de  likes  ob  dat  in  all  your  bawn  days,  Missus;  but  den, 
Marm,  de  general  was  a  very  poor  cook  hisself  you  know,  and  it 
stand  to  argument  ob  reason,  where  Massa  or  Missus  don't  know 
nuffin,  de  sarvant  can't  neither.  Dat  is  what  all  de  gentlemen  and 
ladies  says  dat  wisit  here,  Marm :  '  What  a  lubly  beautiful  woman 
Miss  Lun  is,'  dey  say,  '  dere  is  so  much  finement  in  her,  and  her 
table  is  de  best  in  all  Meriky.' 

"  '  What  a  fool  you  is,  Uncle  Sorrow,'  she  say,  and  den  she  larf 
again  ;  and  when  Missus  larf  den  I  know  she  was  pleased.  'Well,' 
sais  she,  'now  mind  you  keep  all  your  secrets  to  yourself  when 
travelin,  and  keep  your  eyes  open  wide,  and  see  eberyting  and  say 
uuffin.' 

"'  Missus,'  sais  I,  '  I  will  be  wide  awake;  you  may  pend'on  me 
—eyes  as  big  as  two  dogwt-od  blossoms,  and  ears  open  like 
mackarel.' 

"  '  What  you  got  for  dinner  to-day  ?'  she  say — jist  as  you  say, 
Massa.  Well,  I  tell  her  all  ol>er,  as  I  tells  you,  numeratin  all  I 
had.  Den  she  picked  out  what  she  wanted,  and  mong  dem  I  reck- 
lect  was  clams." 

'•  Now  tell  us  how  you  cooked  the  clams,"  I  said  ;  "  what's  the 
use  of  standing  chattering  all  day  there  like  a  monkey  ?" 

"  Dat,  Massa.  now  is  jist  what  I  is  goin'  to  do  dis  blessid  minit. 
'  Missus,'  says  I,  '  talkin  of  clams,  minds  me  of  chickens.' 

"' What  on  airth  do  you  mean,' says  she,  'you  blockhead;  it 
might  as  well  mind  you  of  tunder.' 

" '  Well,  Missus,'  says  I,  '  now  sometimes  one  ting  does  mind  mo 
of  anoder  ting  dat  way  ;  I  nebber  sees  you,  Missus,  but  what  you 
mind  me  ob  de  beautiful  white  lily,  and  dat  agin  ob  de  white  rose 
dat  had  de  lubly  color  on  his  cheek.' 

"  '  Do  go  away,  and  don't  talk  nonsense,'  she  said,  larfing ;  and 
when  she  larfed,  den  I  kpow  she  was  pleased. 

'• '  So  clams  mind  me  of  chickens.' 

"  *  And  whiskey,'  she  said. 

"  '  Well,  it  do  Missus ;  dat  are  a  fac;'  and  I  helped  myself  agin 
dis  way." 

"  Sorrow,"  said  I,  "  this  is  too  bad ;  go  forward  now  and  cu 
this  foolery  short.  You  will  be  too  drunk  to  cook  the  dinner  if 
you  go  on  that  way." 

'•  Massa,'"  said  he,  "  dis  child  nebber  was  drunk  in  his  life ;  but 
he  is  frose  most  to  deaf  wid  de  wretched  fogs  (dat  give  people 
here  '  blue  noses,')  an  de  field  ice,  and  raw  winds  :  I  is  as  cold  as 
if  I  slept  wid  a  dead  niggar  or  a  Yankee.  Yah,  yah,  yah. 

"'  Well,  Missus,'  sais  I,  'dem  clams  do  mind  me  ob  chicken*. 
Now,  Missus,  will  you  skuse  me  if  I  git  you  the  receipt  Miss 
1'hillis  wid  I  ab  cyphered  out,  how  to  preserve  chickens  *" 


594  A     DISH     OF     CLAMS. 

" '  Yes,'  she  said,  '  I  will.  Let  me  hear  it.  Dat  is  sumthet 
new.' 

"  '  Well,  Missus,  you  know  how  you  and  I  is  robbed  by  our 
niggars  like  so  many  minks.  Now,  Missus,  sposen  you  and  I  pass 
a  law  dat  all  fat  poultry  is  to  be  brought  to  me  to  buy,  and  den 
we  keep  our  fat  poultry  locked  up ;  and  if  dey  steal  de  lean  fowls, 
and  we  buy  em,  we  saves  de  fattenen  of  em,  and  gibs  no  more 
arter  all  dan  de  vally  of  food  and  tendin,  which  is  all  dey  gets  now 
for  dere  fowls  is  always  de  best  fed  in  course  ;  and  when  we  ab 
more  nor  we  wants  for  you  and  me,  den  I  take  em  to  market  and 
sell  em  ,  and  if  dey  will  steal  em  arter  dat,  Missus,  we  must  try 
ticklin  ;  dere  is  nuftm  like  it.  It  makes  de  down  fly  like  a  feather 
bed.  Jt  makes  niggers  wery  sarcy  to  see  white  tief  punished  tree 
times  as  much  as  dt>y  is ;  dat  are  a  fac,  Mi<sus.  A  poor  white 
man  can't  work,  and  in  course  he  steal.  Well,  his  time  bein'  nv» 
airlhly  use,  dey  gib  him  six  month  pensiontary  ;  and  a  nigger,  who 
can  aim  a  dollar  or  may  be  100  cents  a  day,  only  one  month.  I 
spise  a  poor  white  man  as  I  do  a  skunk.  Dey  is  a  cuss  to  de 
country  ;  and  its  berry  hard  for  you  and  me  to  pay  rates  to 
support  em  :  our  rates  last  year  was  borninable.  Let  us  pass  dis 
law,  Missus,  and  fowl  stealin1  is  done — de  ting  is  dead.' 

"'Well,  you  may  try  it  for  six  months,'  she  say,  'only  no 
whippin.  We  must  find  some  oder  punishment,'  she  said. 

'• '  I  ab  it,'  sais  I,  '  Missus  !  Oh  Lord  a  massy,  Missus  !  oh  dear, 
Missus !  1  got  an  inwention  as  bright  as  bran  new  pewter  button. 
I'll  shave  de  head  of  a  tief  close  and  smooth.  Dat  will  keep  his 
head  warm  in  de  sun,  and  cool  at  night ;  do  him  good.  He  can't 
go  courtin'den,  when  he  ab  '  no  wool  whar  de  wool  ought  to  grow,' 
and  spile  his  frolk-ken,  and  all  de  niggaroons  make  game  ob  him. 
It  do  more  good  praps  to  tickle  fancy  ob  niggers,  dan  to  tickle  dere 
hide.  I  make  him  go  to  church  reglar,  den,  to  show  hisself  and  his 
bald  pate.  Yah,  yah,  yah  !'  " 

11  Come,  Sorrow,"  I  said,  "  I  am  tired  of  all  this  foolery  ;  either 
tell  me  how  you  propose  to  cook  the  clams,  or  substitute  some- 
thing else  in  their  place.'' 

"  Well  Massa,"  he  said,  "  I  will ;  but  railly  now,  when  I  gits 
talkin'  bout  my  dear  ole  Missus,  pears  to  me  as  if  my  tongue 
would  run  for  ebber.  Dis  is  de  last  voyage  I  ebber  make  in  a 
fishin' craft  I  is  used  to  de  first  society,  and  always  moved  round 
wid  ladies  and  gentlemen  what  had  finement  in  em.  Well,  Massa, 
now  I  comes  to  de  clams.  First  of  all,  you  must  dig  de  clanr*. 
Now  dere  is  great  art  in  diggin'  clams. 

"  Where  you  see  little  hole  like  wormhole,  dere  is  de  clam.  He 
breathe  up  tru  dat,  and  suck  in  his  drink  like  sherry-cobbler 
through  a  straw.  Whar  dere  is  no  little  air  holes,  dere  is  no  clam, 
dat  are  a  fac.  Now,  Massa,  can  \  ou  tell  who  i=»  de  most  knowiti' 


A     DISH     OF     CLAMS.  295 

clam-digger  in  de  worl  ?  De  gull  is,  Massa  ;  and  he  et.t  his  clam 
raw,  as  some  folks  who  don't  know  nuffin  bout  cookin',  eat  oysters. 
He  take  up  de  clam  ebbcr  so  far  in  de  air,  and  let  him  fall  right  on 
de  rock,  which  break  shell  for  him,  and  down  he  goes  and  pounces 
on  him  like  a  duck  on  a  June  bug.  Sometimes  clam  catch  him  by 
de  toe  though,  and  hold  on  like  grim  death  to  a  dead  nigger,  and 
away  goes  brid  screamin  and  yellin,  and  clam  stickin  to  him  like 
burr  to  a  bosses  tail.  Oh,  geehillikin,  what  fun  it  is.  And  all  de 
odor  gulls  larf  at  him  like  any  ting;  dat  comes  o'  seezin'  him  bj 
de  mout  instead  ob  de  scruff  ob  de  neck. 

"  Well,  wlien  you  git  clam  nuff,  den  you  must  wash  em,  and  dat 
is  more  trouble  dan  dey  is  worth ;  for  dey  is  werry  gritty 
naturally,  like  buckwheat  dat  is  trashed  in  de  field — takes  two  or 
tree  waters,  and  salt  is  better  dan  fresh,  cause  you  see  fresh  water 
make  him  sirk.  Well  now,  Massa,  de  question  is,  what  will  you 
ab  ;  clam  soup,  clam  sweetbread,  clam  pie,  clam  fritter,  or  bake 
clam  1" 

"  Which  do  you  tink  best,  Sorrow  ?"  sais  I. 

"  Well,  Massa,  dey  is  all  good  in  dere  way;  Missus  used  to 
fection  baked  clams  mighty  well ;  but  we  can't  do  dem  so  tip  top 
at  sea ;  clam  sweetbread,  she  said,  was  better  den  what  is  made  ob 
oysters,  and  as  to  clam  soup,  dat  pends  on  de  cook.  Now,  Massa, 
when  Missus  and  me  went  to  wisit  de  president's  plantation,  I  see 
his  cook,  Mr.  Sallust,  didn't  know  nuffin  bout  'parin  de  soup. 
\\liat  you  tink  he  did,  Massa?  stead  ob  poundin.de  clams  in  a 
mortar  fust,  he  jist  cut  em  in  quarters  and  puts  em  in  dat  way.  I 
mbber  see  such  ignorance  since  1  was  raised.  He  made  de  soup 
ob  water,  and  actiily  put  some  salt  in  it;  when  it  was  sarved  up — 
it  was  rediciilous  disgraceful — he  left  dem  pieces  in  de  tureen,  and 
dc\  w:i*  like  leather.  Missus  said  to  me, 

"  '  Sorrow,'  sais  she,  '  1  shall  starve  here ;  dem  military  men 
know  iniHin,  but  bout  horses,  dogs,  and  wine;  but  dey  ain't 
delicate  no  way  in  dere  tastes,  and  yet  to  hear  em  talk,  you'd  be 
most  afeered  to  offer  em  any  ting,  you'd  tink  dey  was  de  debbel 
and  all.'" 

"  Did  she  uge  those  words,  Sorrow  ?" 

"Well,  not  zactly."  he  sail,  scratching  his  head,  "dey  waa 
dicksionary  words  and  weny  fine,  for  she  had  great  finement  bout 
her ;  but  dat  was  de  meanin  ob  em. 

" '  Now,  Sorrow,'  she  said,  '  tell  me  de  trut,  wasn't  dat  soup 
now  made  ob  water  ?' 

" '  Yes,  Missus,  it  was,'  said  I,  "  I  seed  it  wid  my  own  eyes.' 

"  •  1  taut  so,'  she  said,  '  why  dat  cook  aint  fit  to  tend  a  bear  trap, 
and  bait  it  wid  sheep's  innerds.' 

'•  Did  she  use  those  words  ?'' 

-  VV  by  laws  a    massy,  Massa!     I  can't  swear  to  de  identical 


296  A     DISH     OF     CLAMS. 

words  •  how  can  I?  but  as  I  was  a  savin,  dere  was  finement  in  em, 
werry  long,  \verry  crooked,  and  werry  pretty,  hut  dat  was  all  de 
sense  ob  em." 

"  '  Now,  Sorrow,'  said  she.  '  he  ought  to  ab  used  milk  ;  all  fisri 
soups  ought  to  be  made  o'  milk,  and  den  tickened  wid  flour.' 

'•'  Why  in  course,  Missus,'  sais  I,  'dat  is  de  way  you  and  me 
always  like  it.' 

"'It  has  made  me  quite  ill,'  said  she. 

"'So  itab  nearly  killed  me,  Missus,'  sais  I,  puttin  my  hand  on 
my  stomach,  '  I  ab  such  a  pain  down  here,  I  tink  sometimes  1  shall 
die.' 

" '  Well,  you  look  ill,  Uncle  Sorrow,'  she  said,  and  she  went  to 
her  dressin'-case,  and  took  a  little  small  bottle  (covered  ober  wid 
printed  words),  '  take  some  o'  dis,'  said  she.  and  she  poured  me  out 
bout  dis  much  (filling  his  glass  again),  'take  dat,  it  will  do  you 
good.' 

"'  Is  it  berry  bad  to  swaller,'  sais  I,  '  Missus,  I  is  most  afeard  it 
will  spile  the  finerm-nt  of  my  taste.' 

';  'Try  it,'  says  she,  and  I  shut  to  my  eyes,  and  made  awful  long 
face,  and  swallowed  it  jist  dis  way. 

"  '  By  jolly,'  says  I,  '  Missus,  but  dat  is  grand.     What  is  dat  ?' 

"  '  Clone  water,'  said  she. 

"'  Oh,  Missus,'  says  I,  '  dat  is  plaguy  trong  water,  dat  are  a  fac, 
r.nd  bery  nice  flavored.  I  wish  in  my  heart  we  had  a  nice  spring 
ob  it  to  home.  Wouldn't  it  be  grand,  for  dis  is  a  bery  thirsty 
nigga,  dat  are  a  fac.  Clam  pie,  Massa,  is  first  chop,  my  Missus 
ambitioned  it  some  punkins.' 

"  Well,  how  do  you  make  it?" 

"  Dere  is  seberal  ways,  Massa.  Sometime  we  used  one  way, 
and  sometime  anoder.  1  do  believe  Missus  could  do  it  fifty  ways." 

"  Fifty  ways,"  said  I ;  "now.  Sorrow,  how  can  yon  lie  that  way. 
I  shall  begin  to  think  at  last,  you  never  had  a  mistress  at  all." 

"Fifty  ways!  Well,  Massa,  goodness  gracious  me!  You  isn't 
goin  to  tie  me  down  to  swear  to  figures  now,  any  more  nor  identi 
cal  words,  is  you  1  I  ab  no  manner  o'  doubt  she  could  fifty  ways, 
but  she  only  used  eight  or  ten  ways  which  she  said  was  de  best 
First  dere  is  de  clam  bake." 

"Well,  1  know  that,"  sais  I,  "  go  on  to  the  clam  pie." 

"  What  is  it1?"  said  the  Doctor,  "for  I  should  like  to  know  h"\v 
they  are  prepared." 

•'  This,"  said  1,  "  is  the  most  approved  mode.  A  cavity  is  dug 
in  the  earth,  about  eighteen  inches  deep,  which  is  lined  with  round 
stones.  On  this  a  fire  is  made  ;  and  when  the  stones  are  sufficiently  * 
heated,  a  bushel  or  more  of  clams  (according  to  the  number  of  p<jr- 
sons  who  are  to  partake  of  the  feast)  is  thrown  upon  them.  On 
this  is  put  a  layer  of  ro^k-weed,  gathered  from  the  beach,  and  over 


A     DISH     07     CLAMS.  297 

this  a  second  layer  of  sea-weed.  This  prevents  tne  escape  of  the 
steam,  and  preserves  t-he  sweetness  of  the.  fish.  Clams  baked  in 
this  manner,  are  preferred  to  those  cooked  in  the  usual  way  in  the 
kitchen.  On  one  occasion,  that  of  a  grand  political  mass-meeting 
in  favor  of  General  Harrison,  on  the  4th  of  July,  1840,  nearly 
10,000  persons  assembled  in  Rhode  Island,  for  whom  a  clam-bake 
and  chowder  was  prepared.  This  was  probably  the  greatest  feast 
of  the  kind  that  ever  took  place  in  New  England." 

•'Zactly,"  said  Sorrow,  "den  dere  is  anoder  way." 

"  I  won't  hear  it,"  said  I,  "  stiver  now,  make  the  pie  anv  wav  vou 
like." 

"  Massa,"  said  he,  "  eber  since  poor  Missus  died  from  eaten  hogs 
wid  dere  heads  on,  I  feel  kinder  faint  when  1  sees  clarns;  I  hab 
neber  swallowed  one  since,  and  neber  will.  De  parfume  gits  into 
my  stomach,  as  it  did  when  de  General's  cook  used  water  instead 
of  milk  in  his  soup.  1  don't  spose  you  ab  any  clone-water,  but  if 
you  will  let  me  take  jist  a  tuiablerfull  ob  dis,  I  tink  it  would  make 
jne  survive  a  little,"  and  without  waiting  for  leave,  he  helped  him- 
self to  a  bumper.  "  Now,  Massa,"  he  said,  "  I  show  you  what 
cookin  is,  1  know,"  and  making  a  scrape  of  his  leg,  he  left  the 
cabin. 

"  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  I  am  glad  you  have  seen  this  -specimen  of  a 
southern  negro.  He  is  a  fair  sample  of  a  servant  in  the  houses  of 
our  great  planters.  Cheerful,  grateful,  and  contented,  they  are  bet- 
ter off  and  happier  than  any  portion  of  the  same  race  I  have  met 
with  in  any  part  of  the  world.  They  have  a  quick  perception  of 
humor,  a  sort  of  instinctive  knowledge  of  character,  and  great  cun- 
ning, but  their  reasoning  powers  are  very  limited.  Their  appetites 
are  gross,  and  their  constitutional  indolence  such,  that  they  prefer 
enduring  any  suffering  and  privation  to  regular  habits  of  industry. 

"Slavery  in  the  abstract  is  a  thing  that  nobody  approves  of,  or 
attempts  to  justify.  We  all  consider  it  an  evil — but  unhappily  it 
was  entailed  upon  us  by  our  forefathers,  and  has  now  grown  to  be 
one  of  such  magnitude  that  it  is  difficult  to  know  how  to  deal  with 
it — and  this  difficulty  is  much  increased  by  the  irritation  which  has 
grown  out  of  the  unskilful  and  unjustifiable  conduct  of  abolitionists. 
The  grossest  exaggerations  have  been  circulated,  as  to  the  conduc 
and  treatr.'ient  of  our  slaves,  by  persons  who  either  did  not  know 
what  they  were  talking  about,  or  who  have  wilfully  perverted  facts. 
The  devil  we  have  painted  black,  and  the  negro  received  the  same 
color  from  the  hand  of  his  Maker.  It  only  remained  to  represent 
the  planter  as  of  a  deeper  dye  than  either.  This  picture,  however, 
wanted  effect,  and  latterly  lights  and  shades  have  been  judiciously 
introduced,  by  mingling  with  these  groups,  eastern  abolitionists, 
white  overseers,  and  English  noblemen,  and  ladies  of  rank.  It  made 
ft  dever  caricatu're — had  a  great  run— has  been  superseded  by  other 
13' 


298  THE    DEVIL'S    HOLE; 

follies  and  extravagancies,  and  is  now  nearly  forgotten.  The  social 
evil  still  remains  and  ever  will,  while  ignorant  zeal,  blind  bigotry., 
hypocrisy  and  politics,  demand  to  have  the  exclusive  treatment  of 
it.  The  planter  has  rights,  as  well  as  the  slave,  and  the  claims  of 
both  must  be  well  weighed  and  considered,  before  any  dispassion- 
ate judgment  can  be  formed. 

"  In  the  meantime  invective  and  misrepresentation,  by  irritating 
the  public,  disqualify  it  for  the  deliberate  exercise  of  its  functions. 
If  the  slaves  have  to  mourn  over  the  want  of  freedom,  the  planters 
may  lament  the  want  of  truth  in  their  opponents  ;  and  it  must  be 
admitted,  that  they  have  submitted  to  the  atrocious  calumnies  that 
have  been  so  liberally  heaped  upon  them  of  late  years,  with  a  con- 
tempt that  is  the  best  refutation  of  falsehood,  or  a  meekness  and 
forbearance  that  contrast  very  favorably  with  the  violence  and  fury 
of  their  adversaries." 

My  object,  however.  Squire,  is,  not  to  write  a  lecture  on  em  an 
cipation,  but  to  give  you  a  receipt  for  cooking  "a  dish  of  clams." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 
THE    DEVIL'S    HOLE;    OR,    FISH    AND    FLESH. 

"SORROW,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  seems  to  me  to  consider  women, 
from  the  way  he  flatters  his  mistress,  as  if  she  was  not  unlike  the 
grupers  at  Bermuda.  There  is  a  natural  fishpond  there  near  Flats 
Village,  in  which  there  is  a  great  lot  of  these  critters,  which  are 
about  the  size  of  the  cod.  They  will  rise  to  the  surface,  and 
approach  the  bank  for  you  to  tickle  their  sides,  which  seem  to 
afford  them  particular  delight." 

"  It  is  what  you  would  call,  1  suppose,  practical  soft  sawdering." 

"  But  it  is  an  operation  of  which  the  rest  are  exceedingly  jealous, 
and  while  you  are  thus  amusing  one  of  them,  you  must  take  care 
others  do  not  feel  offended,  and  make  a  dash  at  your  fingers.  With 
true  feminine  jealousy,  too,  they  change  color  when  excited,  for 
envy  seems  to  pervade  all  animate  nature." 

"  It's  called  the  Devil's  Hole  where  they  are,  aint  it?  "  sais  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  it  is,  and  it  is  situated  not  far  from  Moore's 
favorite  tree,  under  whose  shade  he  used  to  recline  while  writing 
his  poetry,  at  a  time  when  his  deputy  was  equally  idle,  and  instead 
of  keeping  his  accounts,  kept  his  money.  Bermuda  is  a  fatal  placft 
to  poets.  Moore  lost  his  purse  there,  and  Waller  his  favorite  ririir ; 
the  latter  has  been  recently  found,  the  former  was  never  recovered 


O  E  ,     FISH     AND     FLESH.  299 

In  one  thing  these  two  celebrated  authors  greatly  resembled  each 
other,  they  both  fawned  and  flattered  on  the  great." 

'•  Yes,1'  sai.l  Cutler,  "and  both  have  met  Ujeir  reward.  Every, 
body  regrets  that  anything  was  known  of  either,  but  his  poetry—" 

'•  \\YI1,"  sais  I,  "  1  am  glad  I  am  not  an  Englishman,  or  as  true 
is  the  world,  a  chap  like  Lord  John  Russell  would  ruin  me  for 
ever.  I  am  not  a  poet,  and  can't  write  poetry,  but  I  am  a  Clock- 
maker,  and  write  common  sense.  Now,  a  biographer  like  that 
man,  that  knows  as  little  of  one  as  he  does  of  the  other,  would  ruin 
me  for  everlastingly.  It  aint  pleasant  to  have  such  a  burr  as  that 
stick  on  to  your  tail,  especially  if  you  have  no  comb  to  get  it  off, 
is  it  ?  A  politician  is  like  a  bee ;  he  travels  a  zig  zag  course  every 
which  way,  turn in  first  to  the  right  and  then  to  the  left,  now  makiu 
a  dive  at  the  wild  honeysuckle,  and  then  at  the  sweet  briar;  now 
at  the  buckwheat  blossom,  and  then  at  the  rose;  he  is  here,  and 
there,  and  everywhere;  you  don't  know  where  the  plague  to  find 
him  ;  he  courts  all  and  is  constant  to  none.  But  when  his  point  is 
gained  and  he  has  wooed  and  deceived  all,  attained  his  object,  and 
his  bag  is  filled,  he  then  shows  plain  enough,  what  he  was  after  all 
the  time.  He  returns  as  straight  as  a  chalk  line,  or  as  we  say,  as 
the  crow  flies  to  his  home,  and  neither  looks  to  the  right  or  to  the 
left,  or  knows  or  cares  for  any  of  them,  who  contributed  to  his  suc- 
cess. His  object  is  to  enrich  himself  and  make  a  family  name.  A 
politician  therefore  is  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  write  a  biogra- 
phy. Having  a  kind  of  srieakin  regard  for  a  winding  wavy  way 
himself,  he  sees  more  beauty  in  the  in  and  out  line  of  a  Varginny 
fence,  than  the  stiff  straight  formal  post  and  rail  one  of  New  Eng- 
land. As  long  as  a  partizan  crittur  is  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  the 
ail  verse  party,  he  don't  care  whether  he  is  Jew  or  Gentile.  He 
overlooks  little  pecadjlloes,  as  he  calls  the  worst  stories,  and  thinks 
everybody  else  will  be  just  as  indulgent  as  himself.  He  uses 
romanists,  dissenters,  republicans,  and  evangelicals  at  his  own 
great  log-foiling*  frollicks,  and  rolls  for  them  in  return. 

*  LOG-ROLLING — In  the  lun.b^r  regions  of  Maine,  it  is  customary  for  men 
of  different  logging  camps  to  appoint  days  for  helping  each  other  in  rolling 
the  logs  to  the  river  after  they  are  felled  and  trimmed,  this  rolling  being 
about  the  hardest  work  incident  to  the  business.  Thus  the  men  of  three  or 
four  different  camps  will  unite,  say  on  Monday,  to  roll  for  camp  No.  1,  on 
Tuesday,  for  camp  No.  2,  on  Wednesday,  for  camp  No.  3,  and  so  on  through 
the  whole  number  of  camps  within  convenient  distance  of  each  other.  The 
term  has  been  adopted  in  legislation  to  signify  a  little  system  of  mutual  co- 
operation For  instance,  a  member  from  St.  Lawrence  has  a  pet  bill  for  a 
plunk-road  which  he  wants  pushed  through.  He  accordingly  makes  a  bargain 
with  a  member  from  Onondaga,  who  is  coaxing  along  a  charter  for  a  bank,  by 
which  St.  Lawrence  agrees  to  vote  for  Onondaga's  bank  if  Onondaga  will  vote 
St.  Lawrence's  plank-road.  This  is  legislative  log-rolling,  and  there  is  abun- 
Jance  of  it  carried  on  at  Albany  every  winter.  Generally  speaking,  the  subjrci 
•f  the  log-rolling  is  some  merely  local  project,  interesting  only  to  the  people  01 


300  THE    DEVIL'S    HOLE-, 

"  Who  the  plague  haint  done  something,  said  something,  or 
thought  something  he  is  sorry  for,  and  prays  may  be  forgot  and 
forgiven ;  big  brag  as.  I  am,  I  know  I  can't  say  I  haven't  over  and 
over  again  offended.  Well,  if  it's  the  part  of  a  friend  to  go  and 
rake  all  these  things  up,  and  expose  em  to  the  public,  and  if  it's 
agreeable  to  my  wife,  sposen  1  had  one,  to  have  em  published 
because  the  stained  paper  will  sell,  all  I  can  sais  is,  I  wish  he  had 
shown  his  regard  f>r  me,  by  running  away  with  my  wife,  and 
letting  me  alone.  It's  astonishing  how  many  friends  Moore's  dis- 
loyalty made  him.  A  seditious  song  or  a  treasonable  speech  finds 
more  favor  with  some  people  in  the  old  country  than  building  a 
church,  that's  a  fact.  Howsomever,  I  think  I  am  safe  from  him, 
for  first  I  am  a  Yankee,  secondly  I  aint  married,  thirdly  I  am  a 
Clockmaker,  and  fourthly  my  biography  is  written  by  myself  in 
my  book,  fifthly  I  write  no  letters  I  can  help,  and  never  answer 
one  except  on  business. 

"This  is  a  hint  father  gave  me:  'Sam,'  said  he,  'never  talk  to  a 
woman,  for  others  may  hear  you ;  only  whisper  16  her,  and  never 
write  to  her,  or  )  our  own  letters  may  rise  up  in  judgment  against 
you,  some  day  or  another.  Many  a  man.  afore  now,  has  had  reason 
to  wish  he  had  never  seen  a  pen  in  his  life ;'  so  1  aint  afeard,  there- 
fore, that  he  can  write  himself  up  or  me  down,  and  make  me  look 
Skuywoniky,  no  how  he  can  fix  it.  If  he  does,  we  will  declare  war 
again  England,  and  blow  the  little  darned  thing  out  of  the  map  of 
Europe,  for  it  aint  much  bigger  than  the  little  island  Cronstadt  is 
built  on,  after  all,  is  it  1  It's  just  a  little  dot,  and  nothin  more,  dad 
fetch  my  buttons  if  it  is. 

"  But  to  go  back  to  the  grupers  and  the  devil's  hole ;  I  have  been 
there  myself  and  seen  it,  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  but  there  is  other  fish 
besides  these  in  it;  there  is  the  parrot-fish,  and  they  are  like  the 
feminine  gender,  too  ;  if  the  grupers  are  fond  of  being  tickled,  par- 
rots are  fond  of  hearing  their  own  voices.  Then,  there  is  the 
angel-fish,  they  have  fins,  like  wings,  of  a  pale  blue  color'  but  they 
must  be  fallen  angels  to  be  in  such  a  place  as  that  hole,  too,  musn't 
they  1  and  yet  they  are  handsome  even  now.  Gracious  !  what 
must  they  have  been  before  the  fall  ?  and  how  many  humans  has 
beauty  caused  to  fall.  Doctor,  hasn't  it  1  and  how  many  there  are 
that  the  sound  of  that  old  song,  '  My  face  is  my  fortune,  sir,  she 
said,'  would  make  their  hearts  swell  till  they  would  almost  burst. 

"  Well,  then  there  is  another  fish  there,  and  those  Mudians  sar- 
tainly  must  have  a  good  deal  of  fun  in  them,  to  make  such  a  capital 

a  certain  district ;  but  sometimes  there  is  party  log-rolling,  where  the  Whigs, 
for  instance,  will  come  to  an  understanding  with  the  Democrats  that  the  former 
shall  not  oppose  a  certain  democratic  measure  merely  on  party  grounds,  pro- 
vided the  Democrats  will  be  equally  tender  to  some  Whig  measure  in  return.- - 
l.  INMAN. 


OR,      FISH      A  N.  D     F  L  K  fc  H  .  801 

« 

and  comical  assortment  of  queer  ones  for  that  pond.  There  s  the 
lawyer-fish  — can  anything  under  the  sun  be  more  appiopriate  than 
the  devil's  hole  for  a  lawyer.  What  a  nice  place  for  him  to  hano 
out  his  shingle  in,  aint  it  ?  it's  no  wonder  his  old  friend,  the  land* 
lord,  finds  him  an  office  in  it  rent  free,  is  it?  What  mischief  he 
must  brood  there;  bringing  actions  of  slander  against  the  foolish 
parrot-fish  that  will  let  their  tongues  run,  ticklin  the  grupers,  and 
\\hile  they  are  smirking  and  smiling,  devour  their  food,  and  prose- 
cute the  fallen  angels  for  violating  the  Maine  law  and  disturbing  the 
peace.  The  devil's  hole,  like  Westminster  Hall,  is  a  dangerous 
place  for  a  fellow  of  substance  to  get  into,  I  can  tell  you ;  the  way 
they  fleece  him  is  a  caution  to  sinners. 

"My  dog  fell  into  that  fish-pond,  and  they  nearly  fixed  his  flint 
before  I  got  him  out,  I  tell  you;  his  coat  was  almost  stripped  off 
when  I  rescued  him." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  what  in  the  world  took 
you  to  Bermuda  f 

44  Why,"  sais  I,  "  I  had  heard  a  great  deal  about  it.  It  is  a 
beautiful  spot,  and  very  healthy.  It  is  all  that  has  ever  been  said 
or  sung  of  it,  and  more  too,  and  that's  say  in  a  great  deal,  for  most 
celebrated  places  disappoint  you  ;  you  expect  too  much,  and  few 
crack  parts  of  the  world  come  up  to  the  idea  you  form  of  them 
beforehand.  Well,  I  went  down  there  to  see  if  there  was  anything 
to  be  done  in  the  way  of  business,  but  it  was  too  small  a  field  for 
me,  although  I  made  a  spec  that  paid  me  very  well,  too.  There  is 
a  passage  through  the  reefs  there,  and  it's  not  every  pilot  knows  it, 
but  there  was  a  manuscript  chart  of  it  made  by  a  captain  of  a 
t:-a<l in  vessel.  When  he  died  his  widow  offered  it  to  the  govern- 
ment,  but  they  hummed  and  hawed  about  the  price,  and  was  for 
gitting  it  for  half  nothing,  as  they  always  do.  So  what  does  f  do 
but  just  steps  in  and  buys  it;  for  in  war  time  it  is  of  the  greatest 
importance  to  know  this  passage ;  and  1  sold  it  to  our  navy  board, 
and  I  think  if  ever  we  are  at  loggerheads  with  the  British,  we  shall 
astonish  the  weak  nerves  of  the  folks  at  the  summer  islands,  some 
fine  day. 

"  1  had  a  charming  visit.  There  are  some,  magnificent  eaves 
there,  and  in  that  climate  they  are  grand  places,  1  do  assure  yon. 
1  never  saw  anything  so  beautiful.  The  ceiling  is  covered  with 
splendiferous  sparry -like  icicles,  or  chandelier  drops.  What  do  you 
call  that  word,  Doctor  ?" 

"Stalactites." 

"  Exactly,  that's  it,  glorious  stalactites  reaching  to  the  bcttom 
and  forming  fluted  pillars.  In  one  of  those  caves  where  the  watt-r 
runs,  the  Admiral  floored  over  the  bottom,  and  gave  a  ball  in  it, 
and  it  was  the  most  Arabian  Night's  entertainment  kind  of  thing 
that  I  ever  saw.  It  looked  like  a  diamond  hall,  and  didn't  it  show 


302  THE    DEVIL'S    HOLE; 

off  the  Mudian  galls  to  advantage,  lick  !  I  guess  it  did,  for  thej 
nre  the  handsomest  Creoles  in  all  creation.  There  is  more  sub- 
stance in  'e.n  than  in  the  tropical  ladies.  I  don't  mean  worldly 
(though  that  ain't  to  be  sneezed  at,  neither,  by  them  that  ain't  got 
none  themselves.)  When  the  people  used  to  build  small  clippers 
there  for  the  West  India  trade,  cedar  was  vej'y  valuable,  and  a 
pall's  fortune  was  reckoned,  not  by  pounds,  but  by  so  many  cedars. 
Now  it  is  banana  trees.  But,  dear  me,  somehow  or  another  we 
have  drifted  away  down  to  Bermuda,  we  must  stretch  back  again 
to  the  Nova  Scotian  coast  east  of  Chesencock,  or,  like  Jerry 
Boudrot,  we  shall  be  out  of  sight  of  land,  and  lost  at  sea." 

On  going  up  on  the  deck,  my  attention  was  naturally  attracted 
to  my  new  purchase,  the  Canadian  horse. 

"To  my  mind,"  said  the  Doctor,  "Jerry's  knee  action  does  not 
merit  the  extravagant  praise  you  bestowed  upon  it.  It  is  not  high 
enough  to  please  me." 

"There  you  are  wrong,"  sais  I;  "that's  the  mistake  most  people 
make.  It  is  not  the  height  of  the  action,  but  the  nature  of  it.  that 
is  to  be  regarded.  A  high  stepping  horse  pleases  the  eye  more 
than  the  judgment.  He  seerns  to  go  faster  than  he  does.  There 
is  not  only  power  wasted  in  it,  but  it  injures  the  foot.  My  idea  is 
this  :  you  may  compare  a  man  to  a  man,  and  a  woman  to  a  woman, 
for  the  two,  including  young  and  old,  make  the  world.  You  see 
more  of  them,  and  know  more  about  'em,  than  horses,  for  you  have 
your  own  structure  to  examine  and  compare  them  by,  and  can  talk 
to  them,  and  if  they  are  of  the  feminine  gender,  hear  their  own 
account  of  themselves.  They  can  speak,  for  they  were  not  behind 
the  door  when  tongues  were  given  out,  I  can  tell  you.  The  range 
of  your  experience  is  larger,  for  you  are  always  with  them,  but 
how  few  hosses  does  a  man  own  in  his  life.  How  few  he  examines, 
and  how  little  he  knows  about  other  folks  beasts.  They  don't  live 
with  you,  you  only  see  them  when  you  mount,  drive,  or  visit  the 
stable.  They  have  separate  houses  of  their  own,  and  pretty  build- 
ings they  are,  too,  in  general,  containin  about  as  much  space  for 
sleepin  as  a  berth  on  board  a  ship,  and  about  as  much  ventilation, 
too,  and  the  poor  critters  get  about  as  little  exercise  as  passengers, 
and  are  just  about  worth  as  much  as  they  are  when  they  land,  for 
a  day's  hard  trarnp.  Poor  critters,  they  have  to  be  on  their  taps 
most  all  the  time.*  The  Arab  and  the  Canadian  have  the  best 
horses,  not  only  because  they  have  the  best  breed,  but  because  one 
has  no  stalls,  and  t'other  has  no  stable  treatment. 

"  Now  in  judging  of  a  horse's  action,  I  compare  him  not  with 
other  horses,  but  with  animals  of  a  different  species.  Did  you 
ever  know  a  fox  stumble,  or  a  cat  make  a  false  step  ?  I  guess  not ; 

*  On  their  fee* 


OR,     FISH     AND     FLESH.  303 

but  haven't  you  seen  a  bear,  when  chased  and  tired,  go  head-over 
heels.  A  dog,  in  a  general  way,  is  a  sure-footed  critter ;  but  he 
trips  now  and  then,  and  if  he  was  as  big  as  a  horse,  would  throw 
his  rider  sometimes.  Now  then  I  took  to  these  animals,  an  1  I  find 
there  are  two  actions  to  be  combined,  the  knee  and  the  foot  action. 
The  fox  and  the  eat  bend  the  knee  easy  and  suply,  but  don't  arch 
'em  :  and  though  they  go  near  the  ground,  they  don't  trip.  1  take 
that  then  as  a  sort  of  standard.  I  like  my  beast,  especially  if  he  is 
for  the  saddle,  to  be  said  to  trot  like  a  fox.  Now,  if  he  lifts  too 
high,  you  see,  he  describes  half  a  circle,  and  don't  go  ahead  as  he 
p-jght,  and  then  he  pounds  his  frog  into  a  sort  of  mortar  at  every 
step,  for  the  horny  shell  of  a  foot  is  just  like  one.  Well  then,  if 
he  sends  his  fore  leg  away  out  in  front,  and  his  hind  leg  away  out 
behind  like  a  hen  scratchin'  gravel,  he  moves  more  like  an  ox  than 
anything  else,  and  hainte  sufficient  power  to  fetch  them  home  quick 
enough  for  fast  movement.  Then  the  foot  action  is  a  great  point : 
I  looked  at  this  critter's  tracks  on  the  pasture  and  asked  myself, 
does  he  cut  turf,  or  squash  it  flat  1  If  he  cuts  it  as  a  gardener  does 
weeds  with  his  spade,  then  good  bye,  Mr.  Jerry  ;  you  won't  suit 
me;  it's  very  well  to  dance  on  your  toes,  but  it  don't  convene  to 
travel  on  V/n,  or  you're  apt  to  make  somersets. 

"Now,  a  neck  is  a  valuable  thing.  We  have  two  legs,  two 
<-\  es.  two  hands,  two  ears,  two  nostrils,  and  so  on;  but  we  have 
only  one  neck,  which  makes  it  so  easy  to  hang  a  fellow,  or  to  break 
it  by  a  chuck  from  your  saddle ;  and  besides,  we  can't  mend  it,  as 
we  do  a  leg  or  an  arm.  When  it's  broken,  it's  done  for;  and  what 
use  is  it  if  it's  insured  ]  The  money  don't  go  to  you,  but  to  your 
heirs,  and  half  the  time  they  wouldn't  cry,  except  for  decency'  sake, 
if  you  did  break  it.  Indeed,  I  knew  a  great  man  once,  who  got  his 
neck  broke,  and  all  his  friends  said,  for  his  own  reputation  it  was  a 
pity  he  hadn't  broke  it  ten  years  sooner.  The  Lord  save  me  from 
such  friends,  I  say.  Fact  is,  a  broken  neck  is  only  a  nine  days' 
wonder,  after  all,  and  is  soon  forgotten. 

"  Now,  the  fox  has  the  right  knee  action,  and  the  leg  is  '  thar.'  In 
the  real  knee  movement  there  is  a  peculiar  spring  that  must  be  seen 
to  be  known  and  valued,  words  don't  give  you  the  idea  of  it.  It's 
like  the  wire  end  of  a  pair  of  gallusses — oh,  it's  charming.  It's 
down  and  off  in  a  jiffy,  like  a  gall's  finger  on  a  piano,  when  she  is 
doin  chromatic  runs.  Fact  is,  if  I  am  walkin  out  and  see  a  critter 
with  it,  I  have  to  stop  and  stare;  and  Doctor,  I  will  tell  you  a 
queer  thing  Halt  and  look  at  a  splendid  movin  hoss,  and  the  rider 
is  pleased  ;  he  thinks  half  the  admiration  is  for  him  as  rider  and 
owner,  and  tother  half  for  his  trotter.  The  gony's  delighted,  chi- 
mps hi>  lx>ast,  gives  him  a  sly  touch  up  with  the  off  heel,  and  shews 
him  off  to  advantage  But  stop  and  look  at  a  woman,  and  she  is 
as  mad  as  a  hatter.  She  don't  care  how  much  you  look  at  her  as 


304  THE   DEVIL'S    HOLE; 

long  as   you   don't   stand  still   or  turn   your   head   round.     She 
wouldn't  mind  slackin  her  pace  if  you  only  attended  to  that. 

"  Now  the  fox  has  that  special  springy  movement  I  speak  of, 
and  he  puts  his  foot  down  flat, ;  he  bends  the  grass  rather  to  him 
than  from  him  if  anything,  but  most  commonly  crumples  it  flat; 
but  you  never  see  it  inclinin  in  the  line  of  the  course  he  is  runnin 
— never.  Fact  is,  they  never  get  a  hoist,  and  that  is  a  very  curi- 
ous word,  it  has  a  very  different  rneanin  at  sea  from  what  it  has  oa 
land.  In  one  case  it  means  to  haul  up,  in  the  other  to  fall  down. 
The  term  '  look  out,'  is  just  the  same. 

'•  A  canal  boat  was  once  passing  through  a  narrow  lock  on  the 
Erie  line,  and  the  captain  hailed  the  passengers  and  said,  '  Look 
out.'  Well,  a  Frenchman  thinking  something  strange  was  to  be 
seen,  popt  his  head  out  and  it  was  cut  off  in  a  minute.  '  Oh,  moil 
dieu  !'  said  his  comrade,  ldat  is  a  very  striking  lesson  in  English. 
On  land  look  out  means  open  de  window  and  see  what  you  will 
see.  On  board  canal  boats  it  means  haul  your  head  in,  and  don't 
look  at  nothin.1 

u  Well,  the  worst  hoist  that  I  ever  had  was  from  a  very  high 
actioned  mare ;  the  down  foot  slipped,  and  tother  was  too  high  to  be 
back  in  time  for  her  to  recover,  and  over  both  of  us  went  kerlash 
in  the  mud.  I  was  skeered  more  about  her  than  my>elf,  lest  she 
should  git  the  skin  of  her  knee  cut,  for  to  a  knowing  one's  eye  that's 
an  awful  blemish.  It's  a  long  story  to  tell  how  such  a  blemish 
warn't  the  hoss's  fault,  for  I'd  rather  praise  than  apologize  for  a 
critter  any  time.  And  there  is  one  thing  few  people  knows :  Let 
the  cut  come  which  way  it  will  the  animal  is  never  so  safe  afterwards. 
Nature's  bandaye,  the  skin,  is  severed,  and  that  ley  is  the  weakest. 

"  Well,  as  1  was  a  sayin,  Doctor,  there  is  the  knee  action  and 
the  foot  action,  and  then  there  is  a  third  thing.  The  leg  must  be 
Just  thar." 

"  Where  ?"  said  the  Doctor. 

"Thar,"  said  1,  "there  is  only  one  place  for  that,  and  that  is 
thar,'  well  f  rward  at  the  shoulder  point,  and  not  where  it  most 
commonly  is,  too  much  under  the  body — for  if  it's  too  far  back  he 
stumbles,  or  too  forward  he  can't  pick  chips  quick  stick.'  Doctor, 
I  am  a  borin  of  you,  but  the  fact  is,  when  I  get  agoin  '  talkin  hoss,' 
1  never  know  where  to  stop.  How  much  better  tempered  they  are 
than  half  the  women  in  the  world,  ain't  they  ?  and  1  don't  mean  to 
undervally  the  dear  critters  neither  by  no  manner  of  means,  and 
how  much  more  sense  they  have  than  half  the  men  either,  after  all 
their  cracking  and  bragging.  How  grateful  they  are  for  kindness, 
how  attached  to  you  they  get.  How  willin  they  are  to  race  like 
dry  dust  in  a  thunder  squall,  till  they  die  for  you.  ]  do  love  them, 
that  is  a  fact,  and  when  1  see  a  feller  a  ill-usin  of  one  of  'em.  it 
makes  m«  feel  as  cro-s  as  two  crooked  gate-posts  1  tell  you. 


OR,     FISH     AND     FLESH.  305 

"  Indeed,  a  man  that  don't  love  a  hoss  is  no  man  at  all  I  don't 
think  he  can  be  religious.  A  hoss  makes  a  man  humant  and  ten 
(!rr  hearted,  teaches  him  to  feel  for  others,  to  share  his  food,  and 
be  unselfish,  to  anticipate  wants  and  supply  them,  to  be  gentle  and 
patient.  Then  the  hoss  improves  him  otherwise.  He  makes  him 
rise  early,  attend  to  meal  hours,  and  to  be  cleanly.  He  softens 
and  improves  the  heart.  Who  is  there  that  ever  went  into  a  sta- 
ble of  a  morning,  and  his  crittur  whinnered  to  him  and  played  his 
ears  back  and  forward,  and  turned  his  head  affectionately  to  him, 
and  lifted  his  fore  feet  short  and  moved  his  tail,  and  tried  all  he 
could  to  express  his  delight,  and  say  '  morning  to  you,  master,'  or 
when  he  went  up  to  the  manger  and  patted  his  neck,  and  the  lovin 
crittur  rubbed  his  head  agin  him  in  return,  that  didn't  think  within 
himself,  well,  after  all,  the  hoss  is  a  noble  crittur.  I  do  love  him. 
Is  it  nothin  to  make  a  man  love  at  all  ?  How  many  fellers  get 
more  kicks  than  coppers  in  their  life  — have  no  home,  nobody  to 
love  them  and  nobody  to  love,  in  whose  breast  all  the  affections  are 
pent  up  until  they  get  unwholesome  and  want  ventilation.  Is  it 
nothin  to  such  an  unfortunate  crittur  to  be  made  a  stable  help.  Why 
it  elevates  him  in  the  scale  of  humanity.  He  discovers  at  lasj  he 
has  a  head  to  think  and  a  heart  to  feel.  He  is  a  new  man.  Hosses 
warn  t  given  to  us,  Doctor,  to  ride  steeple-chases,  or  run  races,  or 
brutify  a  man.  but  to  add  new  powers,  and  lend  new  speed  to  him 
He  was  destined  for  nobler  uses. 

"  Is  it  any  wonder  that  a  man  that  has  owned  old  Clay  likes  to 
talk  hoss  ?  I  guess  not.  If  I  was  a  gall,  I  wouldn't  have  nothin 
to  say  to  a  man  that  didn't  love  a  hoss,  and  know  all  about  him.  I 
wouldn't  touch  him  with  a  pair  of  tongs.  I'd  scorn  him  as  I  would 
a  nigger.  Sportsmen  breed  pheasants  to  kill,  and  amature  hunts- 
men shoot  deer  for  the  pleasure  of  the  slaaghter.  The  angler  hooks 
salmon  for  the  cruel  delight  he  has  in  witnessing  the  strength  of 
their  dying  struggles.  The  black-leg  gentleman  runs  his  hoss  agin 
time,  and  wins  the  race,  and  kills  his  noble  steed,  and  sometimes 
loses  both  money  and  hoss;  1  wish  to  gracious  he  always  did  ;  but 
the  rale  hossman,  Doctor,  is  a  rale  man,  every  inch  of  him,  stock, 
lock,  and  barrel." 

••  Massa,"  said  Sorrow,  who  stood  listenin  to  me  as  I  was  warmin 
on  the  subject.  "  Massa,  dis  hoss  will  bft  no  manner  of  remagina- 
ble  u<e  under  de  blessed  light  ob  de  sun." 

"Why,  Sorrow?" 

"GftOM,  Massa,  he  don't  understand  one  word  of  English,  and 
de  French  he  knows,  no  libbin  soul  can  understand  but  a  Cheesen- 
cooker.  Yah,  yah,  yah  !  Dey  called  him  a  '  shovel'  and  his  tail  a 
1  queue.' " 

"  What  a  goose,  you  are,  Sorrow,"  sais  I. 

••  Fao.  Massa,''  he  said,  "fac  1  do  ressure  \  )u,  and  dey  called  do 


306  T  H  K   DEVIL'S    HOLE; 

little  piggy  Doctor  fell  over,  'a  coach,'  Dod  drat  my  hide  if  they 
didn't,  yah,  yah,  yah  !" 

•'The  English  ought  t<>  import.  Doctor,"  sais  T,  "  some  of  these 
into  their  country,  for  as  to  ridin  and  drivin,  there  is  nothing  like 
them.  But  catch  Britishers  admitting  there  is  anything  good  in 
Canada,  but  the  office  of  Governor-General,  the  military  commands, 
and  other  pieces  of  patronage,  which  they  keep  to  themselves,  and 
then  they  say  they  have  nothing  left.  Ah  me!  times  is  altered,  as 
Elgin  knows.  The  pil;ory  and  the  peerage  have  changed  places. 
Once,  a  rnan  who  did  wrong  was  first  elevated,  and  then  pelted.  A 
peer  is  now  assailed  with  eggs,  and  then  exalted. '. 

"  Palman  qui  meruitferut"  said  the  Doctor. 

;' Is  that  the  Latin  for  how  many  hands  hi;_rh.  the  horse  is?"  sais 
I.  "Well,  on  an  average,  say  fifteen,  perhaps  oftener  less  than 
more.  It's  the  old  Norman  horse  of  two  centuries  ago.  a  com- 
pound of  the  Flemish  stock  and  the  Baib  introduced  into  the  Low 
Countries  by  the  Spaniards.  Ilavin  been  transported  to  Canada 
at  that  early  period,  it  has  remained  unchanged,  and  now  may  be 
called  a  distinct  breed,  differing  widely  in  many  respects  from  those 
found  at  the  present  day  in  ihe  locations  from  which  they  originally 
came.  But  look  at  the  amazin  strength  of  his  hip,  look  at  the  lines, 
and  anatomical  formation  (as  yon  would  say)  of  his  frame,  which 
fit  him  for  both  a  saddle  and  a  gig  hoss  Look  at  his  chest,  not 
too  wide  to  make  him  paddle  in  his  gait,  nor  too  narrow  to  limit 
his  wind.  Observe  all  the  points  of  strength.  Do  you  see  the 
bone  below  the  knee,  and  the  freedom  of  the  cord  there.  Do  \  on 
mark  the  e;  e  and  head  of  the  Barb.  Twig  the  shoulder,  the  iden- 
tical medium  for  a  horse  of  all  work,  and  the  enormous  power  to 
shove  him  ahead.  This  fellow  is  a  p'cture,  and  I  am  glad  they 
have  not  mutilated  or  broken  him.  He  is  just  the  hoss  I  have  been 
looking  for,  for  our  folks  go  in  to  the  handle  for  fast  trotters,  and 
drive  so  much,  and  ride  so  little,  it  aint  easy  to  get  the  right  saddle 
beast  in  our  State.  The  Cape  Breton  pony  is  of  the  same  breed, 
though  poor  feed,  exposure  to  the  weather,  and  rough  usage,  has 
caused  him  to  dwindle  in  size  ;  but  they  are  the  toughest,  hardiest, 
strongest,  and  most  serviceable  of  their  inches,  I  know  anywhere." 

I  always  feel  scared  when  I  git  on  the  subject  of  hosses,  for  fear 
I  should  ear-wig  people,  so  I  stopt  short;  "and,"  sais  1,  "Doctor, 
I  think  I  have  done  pretty  well  with  the  talking  tacks,  spose  you 
give  me  some  of  your  experience  in  the  trapping  line,  you  must 
have  had  some  strange  adventures  in  your  time.'' 

"  Well,  1  have,"  said  he,  ''but  1  have  listened  with  pleasure  to 
you,  for  although  I  am  not  experienced  in  horses,  performing  most 
of  my  journeys  on  foot,  1  see  you  know  what  von  are  talking 
about,  for  J  am  familiar  with  the  anatomy  of  the  horse.  My  road 
is  the  trackless  forest,  and  1  am  more  at  home  there  than  in  a  city. 


OR,     FISH      AND     FLESH.  307 

Like  you  I  am  fond  of  nature,  but  unlike  you  I  know  little  of 
human  nature,  and  I  would  rather  listen  to  your  experience  than 
undergo  the  labor  of  acquiring  it.  Man  is  an  artificial  animal,  but 
nil  the  inhabitants  of  the  forest  are  natural.  The  study  of  their 
habits,  propensities,  and  instinets  is  very  interesting,  and  in  this 
country  the  only  one  that  is  formidable,  is  the  boar,  for  he  is  not 
only  strong  and  courageous,  but  he  has  the  power  to  c'imb  trees, 
which  no  other  animal  will  attempt  in  pursuit  of  man,  in  Nova 
Scotia.  The  bear,  therefore,  is  an  ugly  customer,  particularly  the 
female,  when  she  has  her  young  cubs  about  her,  and  a  man  requires 
to  have  his  wits  about  him,  when  she  turns  the  table  on  him  and 
hunts  him.  But  you  know  these  things  as  well  as  I  do,  and  to  tefl 
you  i he  truth,  there  is  little  or  nothing  that  is  new  to  be  said  on 
the  subject;  one  bear  hunt  is  like  another.  The  interest  of  these 
things  is  not  so  much  in  their  incidents  or  accidents,  as  in  the  mode 
of  telling  them." 

*'  That's  a  fact,"  sais  I,  "  Doctor.  But  what  do  you  suppose  was 
the  object  Providence  had  in  view  in  filling  'the  world  with  beasts 
of  prey  ]  The  east  has  its  lions  and  tigers,  its  boa-constrictors  and 
anacondas;  the  south  its  panthers  and  catamounts;  the  north  its 
bears  and  wolves  ;  and  the  west  its  crocodiles  and  rattle-snakes. 
\Ve  read  that  dominion  was  given  over  the  birds  of  the  air,  the 
fish  of  the  sea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  forest,  and  yet  no. man  in  a 
state  of  nature,  scarcely,  is  a  match  for  any  one  of  these  createres; 
they  don't  minister  to  his  wants,  and  he  can't  tame  them  to  his 
uses." 

"  I  have  often  asked  myself,  Slick,"  said  he,  "  the  same  question, 
for  nothing  is  made  in  vain,  but  it  is  a  query  not  easy  to  answer. 
My  own  opinion  is,  they  were  designed  to  enforce  civilization. 
Without  these  terrors  attending  a  sojourn  in  the  wilderness,  man 
would  have  wandered  off  as  they  do,  and  lived  alone ;  he  would 
have  made  no  home,  dwelt  with  no  wife,  and  nurtured  no  children. 
His  descendants  would  have  done  the  same.  When  he  encountered 
another  male,  he  would  have  given  him  battle,  perhaps,  killed  and 
eat  him.  His  very  language  would  have  perished,  if  ever  he  had 
any,  and  he  would'have  been  no  better  than  an  ourang-outang.  The 
option  was  not  given  him.  He  was  so  constructed  and  so  situated, 
lie  could  not  live  alone.  Individual  strength  was  insufficient  for 
independent  existence.  To  preserve  life  he  had  to  herd  with  his 
kind.  Thus  tribes  were  first  formed,  and  to  preserve  one  tribe  from 
the  violence  of  another,  they  again  united  and  formed  nations. 
This  combination  laid  the  foundation  of  civilization,  and  as  that 
extended,  these  beasts  of  prey  retired  to  the  confines  of  the  conn- 
try,  enforcing  while  they  still  remain,  the  observance  of  that  law 
of  nature  which  assigned  to  them  this  outpost  duty. 

"  Where  there  is  nothing  revealed  to  us  on  the  subject,  all  is  left 


308  THE     CCCUMBKR     LAKE. 

to  conjecture.  Whatever  the  cause  was,  we  know  it  was  a  wise 
and  a  necessary  one;  and  this  appears  to  me,  to  be  the  most  plau- 
sible reason  I  can  assign.  Perhaps  we  may  also  trace  a  farther 
purpose  in  their  creation,  in  compelling  by  the  terror  they  inspire, 
the  inferior  animals  to  submit  themselves  to  man,  who  is  alone 
able  to  protect  them  against  their  formidable  enemies,  or  to  con- 
gregate, so  that  he  may  easily  find  them  when  he  requires  food ; 
and  may  we  not  further  infer  that  man  also  may  by  a  similar  sense 
of  weakness  be  led  to  invoke  in  like  manner  the  aid  of  him  who 
made  all  things  and  governs  all  things.  Whatever  is,  is  right,"  and 
then  he  quoted  two  Latin  lines. 

1  hate  to  have  a  feller  do  that,  it's  like  throwin  an  apple  into  the 
water  before  a  boy.  He  either  has  to  lose  it  and  go  off  disap- 
pointed, wonderin  what  its  flavor  is,  or  else  wade  out  for  it,  and 
like  as  not  get  out  of  his  depth  afore  he  knows  where  he  is.  So  I 
generally  make  him  fir»t  translate  it,  and  then  write  it  down  for 
me.  He  ain't  likely  after  that  to  do  it  a  second  time.  Here  are 
the  words  : 

"  Si  quid  novisti  rectius  istis 
Candidas  imperti,  si  non  his  utere  mecum." 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 
THE    CUCUMBER    LAKE. 

•'  HERE  is  a  place  under  the  lee-bow,"  said  the  Pilot,  "  in  which 
there  are  sure  to  be  some  coasters,  among  whom  the  mate  may 
find  a  market  for  his  wares,  and  make  a  good  exchange  for  his 
mackarel." 

So  we  accordingly  entered,  and  cast  anchor  among  a  fleet  of  fore- 
and-afters,  in  one  of  those  magnificent  ports  with  which  the  eastern 
coast  is  so  liberally  supplied. 

"There  is  some  good  salmon-fishing  in  the  stream  that  falls  into 
the  harbor,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  suppose  we  try  our  rods ;"  and 
while  Cutler  and  his  people  were  occupied  in  traffic,  we  rowed  up 
the  river,  beyond  the  little  settlement  which  had  nothing  attractive 
in  it,  and  landed  at  the  last  habitation  we  could  see.  Some  thirty 
or  forty  acres  had  been  cleared  of  the  wood,  the  fields  were  well- 
fenced,  and  a  small  stock  of  horned  cattle,  principally  young  ones, 
and  a  fe*w  sheep  were  grazing  in  the  pasture.  A  substantial  rough 
log  hut  and  barn  were  the  only  buildings.  With  the  exception  of 
two  little  children  playing  about  the  door,  there  were  none  of  th<» 
family  to  be  seen. 


THE     CUCUMBKK     LAKE.  309 

On  entering  tne  house,  we  found  a  young  woman,  who  appeared 
to  be  its  sole  occupant.  She  was  about  twenty-five  years  of  a»e  • 
tail,  well-formed,  strong,  and  apparently  in  the  enjoyment  of  good 
health  and  spirits.  She  had  a  tine  open  countenance" an  artless  and 
prepossessing  manner,  and  was  plainly  but  comfortably  clad  in  the 
ordinary  homespun  of  the  country,  and  not  only  looked  neat  her- 
self, but  everything  around  her  was  beautifully  clean.  It  was  man- 
ifest she  had  been  brought  up  in  one  of  the  older  townships  of  the 
province,  tor  there  was  an  ease  and  air  about  her  somewhat  supe- 
rior to  the  log  hut  in  which  we  found  her.  The  furniture  was  sim- 
ple jind  of  rude  manufacture,  but  sufficient  for  the  wants  of  a  small 
family,  though  here  and  there  was  an  article  of  a  different  kind,  and 
old-fashioned  shape,  that  looked  as  if  it  had  once  graced  a  substan 
tial  farm-house;  probably  a  present  from  the  inmates  of  the  old 
homestead. 

We  soon  found  from  her,  that  she  and  her  husband  were,  as  she 
said,  new  beginners,  who,  like  most  persons  in  the  wilderness,  had 
had  many  difficulties  to  contend  with,  which  from  accidental  causes, 
had  during  the  past  year  betn  greatly  increased.  The  weavil 
had  destroyed  their  grain  crop  and  the  rot  their  potatoes,  their 
main  dependence,  a  id  they  had  felt  ,the  pressure  of  hard  times. 
She  had  good  hopes  however,  she  said,  for  the  present  season,  for 
they  had  sowed  the  golden  straw  wheat,  which  they  heard  waa 
exempt  from  the  ravages  of  insects,  and  their  potatoes  had  been 
planted  early  on  burnt  land,  without  manure,  and  she  was  confident 
they  would  thereby  be  rescued  from  the  disease.  Her  husband, 
she  informed  us,  in  order  to  earn  some  money  to  make  up  for  their 
losses,  had  entered  on  board  of  an  American  fishing  vessel,  and  she 
was  in  daily  expectation  of  his  arrival,  to  remain  at  home,  until  the 
captain  should  call  for  him  again,  after  he  had  landed  his  cargo  at 
Portland.  All  this  was  told  in  a  simple  and  unaffected  manner, 
but  there  was  a  total  absence  of  complaint  or  despondency,  which 
often  accompany  the  recital  of  such  severe  trials. 

Having  sent  Sorrow  back  in  the  boat,  with  an  injunction  to 
watch  our  signal  of  recall,  we  proceeded  further  up  the  river,  and 
commenced  fishing.  In  a  short  time  we  killed  two  beautiful  sal- 
mon, but  the  black  flies  and  musquitoes  were  so  intolerably  trou- 
blesome, we  were  compelled  to  return  to  the  log  hut.  1  asked 
permission  of  our  cheerful,  tidy  young  hostess  to  broil  a  piece  of 
tin-  salmon  by  the  fire,  more  for  the  purpose  of  leaving  the  fish 
with  her  than" anything  else,  when  she  immediately  offered  to  per 
t;>rm  that  friendly  office  for  us  herself. 

'•  1  believe,  she  said,  "I  have  a  drawing  of  tea  left,"  and  taking 
fV..ni  the  shelf  a  small  mahogany  caddy,  emptied  it  of  its  contents. 
It  was  all  she  had.  The  Hour-barrel  was  also  examined,  and  enough 
was  gathered,  as  she  said  bv  great  g.-od  luck,  to  make  a  few  cakes. 


310  THE     CL7  CUMBER     L  AKK. 

Her  old  man,  she  remarked,  for  so  she  termed  her  young  husband, 
would  be  back  in  a  clay  or  two,  and  bring  a  fresh  supply.  To 
relieve  her  of  our  presence,  while  she  was  bu-ied  in  those  prepara- 
tions, we  strolled  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  where  the  breeze  in  the 
open  ground  swept  away  our  tormentors,  the  venomous  and  rav- 
enous flies,  and  bv  the  time  our  meal  was  ready,  returned  almost 
loaded  with  trout.  1  do  not  know  that  I  ever  enjoyed  anything 
more  than  this  unexpected  meal.  The  cloth  was  snowy  white,  the 
butter  delicious,  and  the  eggs  fresh  laid.  In  addition  to  this,  and 
what  rendered  it  so  acceptable,  it  was  a  free  offering  of  the  heart. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  I  learned  from  her,  that  the  first 
year  they  bid  been  settled  there  they  had  been  burnt  out,  and  lost 
nearly  ail  they  had,  but  she  didn't  mind  that,  she  said,  for,  thank 
God,  she  had  saved  her  children,  and  she  believed  they  had 
originally  put  up  their  building  in  the  wrong  place.  The  neighbors 
had  been  very  kind  to  them;  helped  them  to  erect  a  new  and  larger 
house,  near  the  beautiful  spring  we  saw  in  the  green  ;  and  besides, 
she  and  her  husband  were  both  young,  and  she  really  believed  they 
were  better  off  than  they  were  before  the  accident. 

Poor  thing,  she  didn't  need  words  of  comfort ;  her  reliance  on 
Providence,  and  their  own  exertions,  was  so  great,  she  seemed  to 
have  no  doubt  as  to  their  ultimate  success.  Still,  though  she  did 
not  require  encouragement  confirmation  of  her  hopes  I  knew  would 
be  grateful  to  her,  and  1  told  her  to  tell  her  husband  on  no  account 
to  think  of  parting  with  or  removing  from  the  place,  fur  1  observed 
there  was  an  extensive  intervale  of  capital  quality,  an  excellent 
mill  privilege  on  the  stream  where  I  caught  the  salmon,  and  as  he 
had  the  advantage  of  water  carriage,  that  the  wood  on  the  place, 
which  was  of  a  quality  to  suit  the  Halifax  markets,  would  soon 
place  him  in  independent  circumstances. 

"  He  will  be  glad  to  hear  you  think  so,  sir,''  she  replied,  "  for  hf. 
has  often  said  the  very  same  thing  himself,  but  the  folks  at  the 
settlement  laugh  at  him,  when  he  talks  that  way,  and  say  he  is  too 
sanguine.  But  I  am  sure  he  aint,  for  it  is  very  much  like  my  poor 
father's  place  in  Colchester,  only  it  has  the  privilege  of  a  harbor, 
which  he  had  not,  and  that  is  a  great  thing." 

The  signal  for  Sorrow  having  been  hung  out  for  some  time,  we 
rose  to  take  leave,  and  wishing  to  find  an  excuse  for  leaving  some 
money  behind  me,  and  recollecting  having  seen  some  cows  in  the 
field,  I  asked  her  if  she  could  sell  me  some  of  her  excellent, 
butter  for  the  use  of  the  cabin.  She  said  she  could  not  do  so.  f>r 
the  cows  ail  had  calves,  and  she  made  but  little  ;  but  she  had  five 
or  six  small  prims,  if  I  would  accept  them,  and  she  could  fill  me  a 
bottle  or  two  with  cream. 

I  felt  much  hurt — I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  She  had  given  me 
ler  last  ounce  -of  tea,  baked  her  last  ^ake,  and  presented  rne  with 


THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE.  811 

all  the  butler  she  had  in  the  house.  '-'  Could  or  would  you  have 
done  that?"  said  I  to  myself,  "come,  Sam,  speak  the  truth  now." 
Well,  Squire,  I  only  brag  when  I  have  a  right  to  boast,  though  you 
do  say  1  am  always  brim  full  of  it,  and  1  won't  go  for  to  deceive 
you  or  myself  either,  1  know  I  couldn't,  that's  a  fact.  I  have  mixed 
too  much  with  the  world,  my  feelings  have  got  blunted,  and  my 
hi  ait  aint  no  longer  as  soft  as  it  used  to  did  to  be.  1  can  give,  and 
give  liberally,  because  1  am  able,  but  I  give  what  I  don't  want  and 
w-hat  1  don't  miss  ;  but  to  give  as  this  poor  woman  did  all  she  had 
of  these  two  indispensable  articles,  tea  and  flour,  is  a  thing,  there  is 
no  two  ways  about  it,  I  could  not. 

I  must  say  I  was  in  a  fix  ;  if  I  was  to  offer  to  pay  her,  I  knew  I 
should  only  wound  her  feelings.  She  derived  pleasure  from  her 
hospitality,  why  should  I  deprive  her  of  that  gratification.  If  she 
delighted  to  give,  why  should  I  not  in  a  like  feeling  be  pleased  to 
accept,  when  a  grateful  reception  was  all  that  was  desired — must  I 
be  outdone  in  all  things?  must  she  teach  me  how  to  give  freely  and 
accept  gracefully  ? 

She  shall  have  her  way  this  hitch,  and  so  will  I  have  mine  bime 
by,  or  the  deuce  is  in  the  die.  1  didn't  surely  come  to  Liscombe 
Harbor  to  be  taught  those  things. 

"Tell  your  husband,"  sais  I,  "I  think  very  highly  of  his  location, 
and  if  hard  times  continue  to  pinch  him,  or  he  needs  a  helping 
hand.  I  am  both  able  and  willing  to  assist  him,  and  will  have  great 
plrasure  in  doing  so  for  her  sake  who  has  so  kindly  entertained  us 
in  his  absence.  Here  is  my  card  and  address,  if  he  wants  a  friend 
let  him  come  to  me,  and  if  he  can't  do  that,  write  to  me,  and  he 
will  find  1  am  on  hand.  Any  man  in  Boston  will  tell  him  wher« 
Sam  Slick  lives." 

'•  Who  ?"  said  she. 

"Sam  Slick,"  sais  I. 

"  My  goodness,"  said  she,  "  are  you  the  Mr.  Slick  who  used  to 
sell—  She  paused  and  colored  slightly,  thinking,  _  perhaps,  as 
many  people  do,  I  would  be  ashamed  to  be  reminded  of  pedling. 

'•  Wooden  clocks,"  sais  I,  helping  her  to  the  word.  "  Yes,"  sais 
J,  "  I  am  Sam  Slick -the  Clock  maker,  at  least  what  is  left  of  me." 


1* 

recollect  your  features,  for  it  is  so  long  ag<>,  but  1  mind  seeing  you 
at  my  father's  old  house,  Deacon  Flint's,  as  well  as  if  it  was  yes- 
terday. We  bought  a  clock  from  you  ;  you  asked  mother's  leave 


to  let  you  put  it  up,  and  leave  it  in  the  room  till  you  called  for  it. 
You  said  you  trusted  to  "  soft  sawder''  to  get  it  into  the  house,  and 
to  "  human  natur"  that  it  should  never  come  out  of  it.  How  often 
our  fulks  have  laughed  over  that  story.  Dear,  dear,  only  to  think 


812  THE     CUCUMBEU     LAKE. 

we  should  have  ever  met  again,"  and,  going  to  a  trunk,  she  tcok 
out  of  a  bark-box  a  silver  sixpence  with  a  hole  in  it,  by  which  it 
was  suspended  on  a  black  ribbon. 

"  See,  sir,  do  you  recollect  that,  you  gave  that  to  me  for  a  keep- 
sake? you  said  it  was  'luck-money.'" 

"Well,"  sais  1,  "  if  that  don't  pass,  don't  it?  Oh,  dear,  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  \ou,  and  yet  how  sad  it  makes  me,  too.  J  am  de- 
lighted at  meetin  vou  so  onexpected,  and  yet  it  makes  me  feel  so 
old  it  scares  me.  It  only  seems  as  if  it  was  the  other  day  whm  I 
was  at  your  house,  and  since  then  you  have  growd  up  from  a  little 
girl  into  a  tall  handsome  woman,  got  married,  been  settled,  and  are 
the  mother  of  two  children.  Dear  me,  its  one  o'  the  slaps  old 
Father  Time  gives  me  in  the  face  sometimes,  as  much  as  to  hint,  '  I 
say,  Slick,  you  are  gettin  too  old  now  to  talk  so  much  nonsense 
as  you  do.'  Well,''  sais  I,  "my  words  have  come  true  about 
that  silver  sixpence. 

"  Come  here,  my  fittle  man,"  sais  I  to  her  pretty  curly-headed 
little  boy,  "come  here  to  me,"  and  i  resumed  my  seat.  "  Now," 
sais  I,  "my  old  friend,  I  will  show  you  how  that  prophesy  is  ful- 
filled to  this  child.  That  clock  I  sold  to  Deacon  Flint  only  cost  me 
five  dollars,  and  five  dollars  more  would  pay  duty,  freight,  and 
carriage,  and  all  expenses,  which  left  five  pounds  clear  profit 
but  that  warn't  the  least  share  of  the  gain  :  it  introduced  my  wares 
all  round  and  through  ihe  country,  and  it  would  have  paid  me  well 
if  1  had  given  him  a  dozen  clocks  for  his  patronage.  I  always 
thought  I  would  return  him  that  profit  if  J  could  see  him,  and  a>  J 
can't  do  that,  1  will  give  it  to  this  little  boy,"  so  I  took  out  my 
pocket-book  and  gave  her  twentv  dollars  for  him. 

"  Come,"  sais  J,  '•  my  friend,  that  relieves  my  conscience  now  of 
a  debt  of  gratitude,  for  that  is  what  1  always  hit-ended  to  do  if  I  got 
a  chance." 

Well,  she  took  it,  said  it  was  very  kind,  and  would  be  a  great 
help  to  them  ;  but  that  she  didn't  see  what  occasion  there  was  to 
return  the  m'oney,  for  it  was  nothing  but  the  fair  profit  of  a  trade, 
and  the  clock  was  a  most  excellent  one,  kept  capital  time,  and  was 
still  standing  in  the  old  house. 

Thinks  I  to  myself,  "you  have  taught  me  two  things,  my  pretty 
friend;  first,  how  to  give,  and  second,  how  to  receive." 

Well,  we  bid  her  good-bye,  and  after  we  had  proceeded  a  short 
distance  I  returned. 

Sais  I,  "Mrs.  Steele,  there  is  one  thing  I  wish  you  would  do  for 
me  ;  is  there  any  cranberries  in  this  neighborhood  ?" 

"  Plenty,  Sir,"  she  said  ;  "  at  the  head  of  this  river  there  is  an 
immense  b<  <g,  chock  full  of  their.." 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "  there  is  nothin  in  natur  I  am  so  fond  of  as  them  ; 
would  give  anything  in   the  world  for  a   few   bushel.     Tell    vour 


THE     CDCUMBKR     LAKK.  313 

husband  lo  employ  some  people  to  pick  me  this  fall  a  barrel  of 
them,  and  send  them  to  me  by  one  of  our  vessels,  directed  to  me 
to  Slickville,  and  when  I  go  on  board  I  will  send  you  a  barrel  of 
flour  to  pay  for  it." 

"  Dear  me,  Sir,"  said  she,  "  .hat's  a  great  deal  more  than  their 
value;  why  they  ain't  worth  more  than  two  dollars.  We  will 
pick  them  for  you  with  great  pleasure.  We  don't  want  pay." 

"  Ain't  they  worth  that  ?''  said  I,  "so  much  the  better/  Well, 
then,  he  can  send  me  another  barrel  the  next  year.  Why,  they  are 
as  cheap  as  bull  beef  at  a  cent  a  pound.  Good  bye;  tell  him  to  be 
sure  to  come  and  see  me  the  first  time  he  goes  to  the  States. 
Adieu." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Doctor,"  said  I,  as  we  proceeded 
to  the  boat ;  "  ain't  that  a  nice  woman  ?  how  cheerful  and  uncom- 
plaining she  is ;  how  full  of  nope  and  confidence  in  the  future.  Her 
heart  i>  in  the  right  place,  ain't  it  ?  My  old  mother  had  that  same 
sort  of  contentment  about  her,  only,  perhaps,  her  resignation  was 
stronger  than  her  hope.  When  anything  ever  went  wrong  about 
our  place  to  home  to  Slickville,  she'd  always  say,  '  Well,  Sam.  it 
might  have  been  worse  ;'  or,  '  Sam,  the  darkest  hour  is  always  just 
afore  day,'  and  so  on.  But  Minister  used  to  amuse  me  beyond 
anything,  poor  old  soul.  Once  the  congregation  met  and  raised  his 
wages  from  three  to  four  hundred  dollars  a-year.  Well,  it  nearly 
set  him  crazy  ;  it  bothered  him  so  he  could  hardly  sleep.  So  after 
church  was  over  the  next  Sunday,  he  sais,  '  My  dear  brethren,  I 
hear  you  have  raised  my  salary  to  four  hundred  dollars.  I  am 
greatly  obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness,  but  I  can't  think  of  taking 
it  on  no  account.  First  you  can't  afibrd  it  no  how  you  can  fix  it, 
and  I  know  it;  secondly,  I  ain't  worth  it,  and  you  know  it;  and 
thirdly,  I  am  nearly  tired  to  death  collecting  my  present  income ; 
if  I  have  to  dun  the  same  way  for  that,  it  will  kill  me.  I  can't 
stand  it;  1  shall  die.  No,  no;  pay  me  what  you  allow  me  more 
punctually,  and  it  is  all  I  ask,  or  will  ever  receive.' 

"  But  this  poor  woman  is  a  fair  sample  of  her  class  in  this 
country  ;  I  do  believe  the  only  true  friendship  and  hospitality  is  to 
be  found  among  them.  '1  hey  ain't  rich  enough  for  ostentation,  and 
are  too  equal  in  condition  and  circumstances  for  the  action  of 
jealousy  or  rivalry  ;  1  believe  they  are  the  happiest  people  in  the 
world,  but  I  know  they  are  the  kindest.  Their  feelings  are  not 
chilled  by  poverty  or  corrupted  by  plenty  ;  their  occupations  pre- 
clude ihe  hope  of  wealth,  and  forbid  the  fear  of  distress.  Depend- 
ant on  each  other  for  mutual  assistance,  in  those  things  that  are 
beyond  individual  exertion,  they  interchange  friendly  offices,  which 
commencing  in  necessity,  glow  into  habits,  and  soon  become  the 
4  labor  of  love.'  They  are  poor,  but  not  destitute,  a  region  in  my 
op.nion  in  which  the  heart  is  more  fully  developed  than  in  any 
14 


'  T  H  B    CUCUMBKR    LAKE. 

other.  Those  who  are  situated  like  Steele  and  his  wife,  and  com- 
mence a  settlement  in  the  woods,  with  the  previous  training  they 
have  received  in  the  rural  districts,  begin  at  the  right  end  ;  but 
th-'V  are  llie  only  people  who  are  fit  to  be  pioneers  in  the  forest. 
How  many  there  are  who  begin  at  the  wrong  end  ;  perhaps  there 
is  no  one  subject  on  which  men  form  such  false  notions  as  the  mode 
of  settling  in  the  country,  whether  they  are  citizens  of  a  colonial 
town,  or  strangers  from  Great  Britain. 

"  Look  at  that  officer  at  Halifax  :  he  is  the  best  dressed  man  in 
the  garrison  ;  he  is  well  got  up  always  ;  he  looks  the  gentleman 
every  inch  of  him  ;  how  we1!  his  horses  are  groomed  ;  how  perfect 
his  turn-out  looks;  how  well  appointed  it  is,  as  he  callsit.  He  and 
his  servant  and  his  cattle  are  a  little  bit  of  fashion  imported  from 
the  pnrk  and  astonish  the  natives.  Look  at  his  wife,  ain't  she  a 
beautiful  creature?  ihey  are  proud  of,  and  were  just  made  for  each 
other.  This  is  not  merely  all  external  appearance  either  ;  they 
are  accomplished  people  ;  they  sing,  they  play,  they  sketch,  they 
paint,  they  speak  several  languages,  they  are  well  read,  they  have 
many  resources.  Soldiering  is  dull,  and,  in  time  of  peace,  only  A 
police  service.  It  has  disagreeable  duties;  it  involves  repeated 
removals,  and  the  alternation  of  bad  climates — from  Hudson's  Bay 
to  Calcutta's  Black  Hole.  The  juniors  of  the  regimental  officers 
are  mere  boys — the  seniors  great  empty  cartouch  boxes,  and  the 
women  have  cabals — there  is  a  sameness  even  in  its  variety  ;  but 
worse  than  all,  it  has  no  home — in  short,  the  whole  thing  is  a  bore. 
It  is  better  to  sell  out  and  settle  in  the  province;  land  is  cheap; 
their  means  are  ample,  and  more  than  sufficient  for  the  requirements 
of  the  colony ;  country  society  is  stupid  ;  there  are  no  people  fit 
to  visit.  It  is  best  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  their  morning  calls 
and  their  gossip.  A  few  miles  back  in  the  woods  thure  is  a  splendid 
stream  with  a  beautiful  cascade  on  it;  there  is  a  magnificent  lake 
communicating  with  several  others  that  form  a  chain  of  many  miles 
in  extent.  That  swelling  knoll  that  slopes  so  gently  to  the  water 
would  be  such  a  pretty  site  for  a  cottage-w»e.  and  the  back-ground 
of  hanging  wood  has  an  indescribable  beauty  in  it,  especially  in  the 
autumn,  when  the  trees  are  one  complete  mass  of  variegated  hues. 
He  warms  on  the  theme  as  he  dilates  on  it,  and  sings  as  he  turns 
to  his  pretty  wife  : 

•'  I  knew  by  the  smoke  that  so  gracefully  curled 

Above  the  green  elms  that  a  cottage  was  near. 
And  I  said  if  there's  peace  to  be  found  in  the  world, 
The  heart  that  is  humble  might  hope  for  it  here." 

"  How  sweet  to  plan,  how  pleasant  to  execute.  How  exciting 
to  see  it  grow  under  one's  own  eye,  the  work  of  one's  own  hand — 
the  creation  of  one's  own  taste.  It  is  decided  on  ;  Dechamps 


THE     CUCUMBKK     LAKB.  315 

retires,  the  papers  go  in,  the  hero  goes  out- -what  a  relief;  no  in- 
spection  of  soldiers  dirty  kits— no  parade  by  day— no  guards  nor 
rounds  by  night — no  fatigue  parties  of  men  who  never  fatigue 

themselves — no  stupid  court  martial — n-i  horrid  punishments no 

reviews  to  please  a  colonel  who  never  is  pleased,  or  a  general  who 
will  swear — no  marching  through  streets,  to  be  stared  at  bv  house- 
maids from  upper  windows,  and  by  dirty  boys  in  the  side  paths- 
no  procession  to  follow  brass  instruments,  like  the  train  of  a  circus 
*-no  bearded  band-master  with  his  gold  cane  to  lead  on  his  musi- 
cians, and  no  bearded  white  goat  to  march  at  the  head  of  the  regi- 
ment. All,  all,  are  gone. 

••  lie  is  out  of  livery,  he  has  played  at  soldiering  long  enough  ; 
he  is  tired  of  the  game,  he  sells  out,  the  man  of  business  is  called 
in.  liis  lawyer  as  he  terms  him,  as  if  every  gentleman  kept  a  lawyer, 
as  he  does  a  footman.  He  is  in  a  hurry  to  have  the  purchase  com- 
pleted with  as  little  delay  as  possible.  But  delays  will  occur,  he 
is  no  longer  a  centurion  and  a  man  of  authority,  who  has  nothing 
to  do  but  to  say  to  this  one  come,  and  he  cometh;  and  another  go, 
and  he  goeth ;  do  this  and  it  is  done.  He  can't  put  a  lawyer  under 
tn  rest,  he  is  a  man  of  arrests  himself.  He  never  heard  of  an  attach- 
ment for  contempt,  and  if  he  had,  he  couldn't  understand  it;  for 
when  the  devil  was  an  attorney,  he  invented  the  term,  as  the  softest 
and  kindest  name  for  the  hardest  and  most  unkind  process  there  is. 
Attachment  for  contempt,  what  a  mockery  of  Christian  forgiveness  ! 

"  A  conveyancer  is  a  slow  couch,  he  must  proceed  cautiously,  he 
has  a  long  journey  to  take,  he  has  to  travel  back  to  a  grant  from 
the  crown,  through  all  the  '  mesne' conveyances.  He  don't  want 
a  mean  conveyance,  he  will  pay  liberally  if  it  is  only  done  quickly. 
And  is  infoimed  'mesne'  in  law  signifies  intermediate.  It  is  hard 
to  say  what  the  language  of  law  does  mean.  Then  there  are 
searches  to  be  made  in  the  record  offices,  and  the — damn  the 
searches,  for  he  is  in  a  hurry  and  loses  his  patience —search  at  the 
bankers  and  all  will  be  found  right.  Then  there  are  releases  and 
iiments  and  discharges.  He  can  stand  it  no  longer,  he  releases 
his  lawyer,  discharges  him,  and  assigns  another,  who  hints,  insi- 
nuates, he  don't  charge;  but  gives  him  to  understand  his  predeces- 
sor was  idle..  lie  will  lose  no  time,  indeed  he  has  no  time  to  l»>se, 
he  is  so  busy  with  other  clients'  affairs,  and  is  a*  "low  as  the  first 
man  was. 

"But  at  last  it  is  done;  the  titles  are  completed.  He  is  pre- 
sented with  a  huge  pile  of  foolscap  paper,  very  neatly  folded,  beau- 
tifully engrossed  and  endorsed  in  black  letters,  and  nicely  tied  up 
with  red  tape,  which  with  sundry  plans,  surveys  and  grants,  are 
secured  ;ji  a  large  dispatch  box,  on  which  are  inscribed  in  gold  let- 
ters '  the  Epaifficit  estate,"1  It  is  a  pretty  Indian  word  that,  it  means 
the.  '  home  on  the  wave.'  It  is  the  original  name  of  ihat  gem  of  'i"J 


SI  6  THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE. 

western  ocean,  which  the  vulgar  inhabitants  have  christened  Princ* 
Edward's  Island. 

"  But  what  can  you  expect  of  a  people  whose  governor  calls  the 
gentry  '  the  upper  crust  of  society,'  and  who  in  their  turn  see  an 
affinity  between  a  Scotch  and  a  Roman  fiddle,  and  denounce  him  as 
a  Nero.  But  then  who  looks,  as  he  says,  for  taste  in  a  colony,  it 
is  only  us  'Englishmen'  who  have  any.  Yes,  he  calls  this  place 
'  Epaigwit.'  It  has  a  distingue  appearance  on  his  letters.  lie  has 
now  a  name,  the  next  thing  is  '  a  local  habitation.'  Well,  we  won*t 
stop  to  describe  it,  but  it  has  an  elegant  drawing-room,  if  there  was 
only  company  to  collect  in  it,  a  spacious  dining-room,  and  though 
only  two  plates  are  on  the  table,  there  is  room  for  twenty,  and  a 
charming  study  only  awaiting  his  leisure  to  enjoy  it  and  so  on. 

"  It  is  done  and  the  design  carried  out.  though  not  completed  ; 
prudence  forbids  a  further  expenditure  just  now.  It  has  cost  five 
times  as  much  as  was  contemplated,  and  is  not  worth  a  tenth  part 
of  the  outlay,  still  it  is  very  beautiful.  Strangers  go  to  see  it,  and 
every  one  pronounces  it  the  prettiest  thing  in  the  Lower  provinces. 
There  have  been  some  little  drawbacks,  but  they  are  to  be  expected 
in  a  colony  and  among  the  Goths  and  Vandals  wno  live  there.  The 
contractors  have  repudiated  their  agreement  on  account  of  the 
extensive  alterations  made  in  the  design  and  the  nature  of  the 
'.vork,  and  he  has  found  there  is  law  in  the  country,  if  not  justice. 
The  servants  find  it  too  lonely,  they  have  no  taste  for  the  beauties 
of  nature,  and  remain  without  work,  or  quit  without  notice.  If  he 
,..  f,,ocs  fo  pay  he  is  sued,  if  he  pays  he  is  cheated.  The  housp  leaks, 
for  the  materials  are  green,  the  chimneys  smoke,  for  the  drafts  are 
in  the  wrong  place.  The  children  are  tormented  by  black  flies  and 
musquitoes,  and  their  eyes  are  so  swelled  they  can't  see.  The 
ben  1-3  make  love  to  his  sheep,  and  the  minks  and  foxes  devour  his 
poultry.  The  Indians  who  come  to  beg,  are  supposed  to  come  to 
murder,  and  the  negroes  who  come  to  sell  wild  berries  are  sus- 
pected to  come  to  steal.  He  has  no  neighbors,  he  did  not  desire 
any,  and  if  a  heavy  weight  has  to  be  lifted,  it  is  a  little,  but  not' 
much  inconvenience  to  send  to  the  town  for  assistance:  and  the 
people  go  cheerfully,  for  they  have  only  five  miles  to  con-",  and 
five  to  return,  and  they  are  not  detained  more  than  five  minutes, 
for  he  never  asks  them  into  his  house.  The  butcher  won't  com« 
so  far  to  carry  his  meat,  nor  the  baker  his  bread,  nor  the  postman 
to  deliver  his  letters. 

"  The  church  is  too  far  off,  and  there  is  no  school.  But  the  cler- 
gyman is  not  fit  to  be  heard,  he  is  such  a  drone  in  the  pulpit ;  and 
it  is  a  sweet  employment  to  train  one's  own  children,  who  thus 
avoid  contamination  by  not  associating  with  vulgar  companions. 

"These  are  trifling  vexations,  and  what  is  there  in  this  life  th.it 
hss  not  some  little  drawback.  But  there  is  something  very  charm. 


THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE.  317 

» 

m<r  in  perfect  independence  in  living  for  each  other,  and  in  residing 
in  one  of  the  most  delightful  spots  in  America,  surrounded  by  the 
most  exquisite  scenery  that  was  ever  beheld.  There  is  one  thino-, 
however,  that  is  annoying.  The  country  people  will  not  use,  or 
adopt  that  pretty  word  '  Epaigwit,'  '  the  home  of  the  wave,'  which 
rivals  in  beauty  of  conception,  an  eastern  expression.  The  place 
was  originally  granted  to  a  fellow  of  the  name  of  Umber,  who  wan 
called  after  the  celebrated  navigator  'Cook.'  These  two  words 
when  united  soon  became  corrupted,  and  the  magnificent  sheet  of 
water  was  designated  '  the  Cucumber  Lake,'  while  its  splendid 
cataract  known  in  ancient  days  by  the  Indians  as  the  'Pan-ook',  or 
'the  River's  Leap,'  is  perversely  called  by  way  of  variation  'the 
Cowcumber  Falls  ;'  can  any  thing  be  conceived  more  vulgar  or 
more  vexatious,  unless  it  be  their  awkward  attempt  at  pronun- 
ciation, which  converts  Epaigwit  into  '  a  pigs  wit,'  and  Pan-hook 
into  '  Pond-hook.' 

"But,  then,  what  can  you  expect  of  such  boors,  and  who  cares, 
or  what  does  it  matter,  for  after  all,  if  you  come  to  that,  the  'Cum- 
berland  Lakes'  is  not  very  euphonious,  as  he  calls  it,  whatever  that 
means.  He  is  right  in  saying  it  is  a  beautiful  place,  and  as  he  often 
observes,  what  an  immense  sum  of  money  it  would  be  worth  if  it 


is  quite  right,  that  day  will  come,  and  so  will  the  millenium,  but  it 
is  a  good  way  off  yet ;  and  dear  old  Minister  used  to  say,  there 
was  no  dependable  authority  that  it  ever  w-vild  come  at  all. 

"  Now  and  then  a  brother  officer  visits  him.  Elliott  is  there 
now,  not  the  last  of  the  Elliotts,  for  there  is  no  end  of  them,  and 
though  only  a  hundred  of  them  have  been  heard  of  in  the  world, 
there  are  a"  thousand  well  known  to  the  Treasury.  But  he  is  the 
last  chum  from  his  regiment  he  will  ever  see.  As  they  sit  after 
dinner,  he  hands  the  olives  to  his  friend,  and  suddenly  checks  him 
self,  saying.  I  forgot,  you  never  touch  the  '  after-feed.'  Then  he 
throws  up  both  eyes  and  hands,  and  affects  to  look  aghast  at  the 
mistake.  '  Reallv,'  he  sais,  '  I  shall  soon  become  as  much  of  a  boor, 
as  the  people  of  this  country.  I  hear  nothing  now  but  mowing, 
browsing,  and  '  after-feed,'  until  at  last  I  find  myself  using  the  lac- 
ter  word  for  '  desert.'  He  says  it  prettily,  and  acts  it  well  and 
although  his  wife  has  often  listened  to  the  same  joke,  she  looks  as 
if  it  would  bear  repetition,  and  her  face  expresses  great  pleasure. 
Poor  Dechamps,  if  your  place  is  worth  nothing,  she,  at  least,  is 
treasure  above  all  price.  , 

"Presently,  Elliot  sais,  '  By-the-bye,  Dec-hamps,  have  you  heard 
we  are  ordered  to  Coifu,  and  embark  immediately.' 

"  Dear  me,  wh«T  magic  thtre  is  in  a  word.     Sometimes   jt  d«- 


313  THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE. 

closes,  in  painful  distinctness,  the  past;  at  others,  it  reveals  a  pro 
phetic  page  of  the  future;  who  would  ever  suppose  there  was  any- 
thing  in  that  little  insignificant  word,  to  occasion  a  thought,  unless 
it  was  whether  is  was  pronounced  Corfoo  or  Corfew,  and  it's  so 
little  consequence  which,  1  always  give  it  the  go  by  and  say  Ionian 
Isles. 

"  But  it  startled  Dechamps.  He  had  hoped  before  he  left  the 
army  to  have  been  ordered  there,  and  from  thence  to  have  visitrd 
the  classic  coasts  of  Greece.  Alas,  that  vision  has  gone,  and  there 
is  a  slight  sigh  of  regret,  for  possession  seldom  equals  expectation, 
and  always  cloys,  lie  can  never  more  see  his  regiment,  they  have 
parted  for  ever.  Time  and  distance  have  softened  some  of  the 
rougher  features  of  military  l:4e.  He  thinks  of  the  joyous  days  of 
youth,  the  varied  scenes  of  life,  his  profession  exposed  to  his  view, 
and  the  friends  he  has  left  behind  him.  The  service  he  thinks  not 
so  intolerable,  after  all,  and  though  regimental  society  is  certainly 
not  what  he  should  choose,  especially  as  a  married  man,  yet,  ex- 
cept in  a  rollicking  corps,  it  may  at  least  negatively  be  said  to  be 
4  not  bad.' 

"  From  this  review  of  the  past,  he  turns  to  the  prospect  before 
him.  But,  he  discerns  something  that  he  does  not  like  to  contem- 
plate, a  slight  shadow  passes  over  his  face,  and  he  asks  Elliott  to 
pass  the  wine.  His  wife,  with  the  quickness  of  perception  so  natu- 
ral to  a  woman,  sees  at  once  what  is  passing  in  his  mind  ;  for  simi- 
lar, but  deeper,  far  deeper  thoughts,  like  unbidden  guests,  have 
occupied  hers  many  an  anxious  hour.  Poor  thing,  she  at  once  per- 
ceives her  duty,  and  resolves  to  fulfil  it.  She  wLl  be  more  cheer- 
ful. She  at  least  will  never  murmur.  After  all,  Doctor,  it's  no 
great  exaggeration  to  call  a  woman,  that  has  a  go  >d  head  and  kind 
heart,  and  the  right  shape,  build,  and  bearings,  an  angel,  is  it?  But 
let  us  mark  their  progress,  for  we  shall  be  better  able  to  judge 
then. 

'"Let  us  visit  Epaigwit again  in  a  few  years.  Who  is  that  man 
near  the  gate,  that  looks  unlike  a  servant,  unlike  a  farmer,  unlike  a 
gentleman,  unlike  a  sportsman,  and  yet  has  a  touch  of  all  four 
characters  about  him  1  He  has  a  shocking  bad  hat  on,  but  what's 
the  use  of  a  good  hat  in  the  woods,  as  poor  Jackson  said,  where 
there  is  no  one  to  see  it.  He  has  not  been  shaved  since  last  sheep- 
shearing,  and  has  a  short  black  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  the  tobacco 
smells  like  nigger-head  or  pig-tail,  lie  wears  a  coarse  check  shirt 
without  a  collar,  a  black  silk  neck-cloth  frayed  at  the  edge,  that 
looks  like  a  rope  of  old  ribbons.  Mis  coat  appears  as  if  it  had 
once  been  new,  but  had  been  on  its  travels,  until  at  last  it  had  got 
pawned  to  a  Jew  at  Rag-alley.  His  waistcoat  was  formerly  buff, 
but  now  resembles  yellow  flannel,  and  the  buttons,  though  complete 
vi  number,  are  of  different  sorts.  The  trowsers  are  homespun, 


THE     CUCUMBER    LAKE.  319 

much  won  and  his  boots  coarse  enough  to  swap  with  a  fisherman 
for  mackerel.  His  air  and  look  betokens  pride  lendered  sour  by 
poverty. 

'•But  there  is  something  worse  than  all  this;  something  one 
never  sees  without  disgust  or  pain,  because  it  is  the  sure  precursor 
of  a  diseased  body,  a  shattered  intellect,  and  voluntary  degrada- 
tion. There  is  a  bright  red  color  that  extends  over  the  whole  face. 
and  reaches  behind  the  ears.  The  whiskers  are  prematurely  tipped 
with  white,  as  if  the  heated  skin  refused  to  nourish  them  any  lon- 
ger. The  lips  are  slightly  swelled,  and  the  inflamed  skin  indicates 
inward  fever,  while  the  eyes  are  bloodshot,  the  under  lids  distended, 
and  incline  to  shrink  from  contact  with  the  heated  orbs  they  were 
destined  to  protect.  He  is  a  dram  drinker  ;  and  the  poison  that  he 
imbibes  with  New  England  rum,  is  as  fatal,  and  nearly  as  rapid  in 
its  destruction  as  strikline. 

"  Who  is  he;  can  you  guess?  do  you  give  it  up?  He  is  that 
handsome  officer,  the  Laird  of  Epaigwit  as  the  Scotch  would  say, 
the  general  as  we  should  call  him,  for  we  are  liberal  of  titles,  and 
the  man  that  lives  at  C'oM>-cumber  Falls  as  they  say  here.  Pooi 
fallow,  he  has  made  the  same  discovery  Sergeant  Jaokson  did,  that 
there  is  no  use  of  good  things  in  the  woods  where  there  is  no  one 
to  see  them.  He  is  about  to  order  \ou  off  his  premises,  but  it 
occurs  to  him  that  would  be  absurd,  for  he  has  nothing  now  worth 
seeing,  lie  scrutinises  you,  however,  to  ascertain  if  he  has  ever 
seen  you  b.-tbre.  He  fears  recognition,  for  he  dreads  both  your 
pity  and  your  ridicule;  so  he  strolls  leisurely  back  to  the  house 
with  a  certain  bull-dog  air  of  defiance. 

"  Let  us  follow  him  thither;  but  before  we  enter,  observe  there 
is  some  gla>s  out  of  the  window,  and  its  place  supplied  by  sh'mgles. 
The  stanhope  is  in  the  coach-house,  but  the  bye-road  was  so  full  of 
stumps  and  cradle-hills,  it  was  impossible  to  drive  in  it,  and  the 
moths  have  eaten  the  lining  out.  The  carriage  has  been  broken  so 
often,  it  is  not  worth  repairing,  and  the  double  harness  has  been 
cut  up  to  patch  the  tacklin  of  the  horse-team.  The  shrubbery  has 
been  browsed  away  by  the  cattle,  and  the  rank  grass  has  choked 
all  the  rose  bushes"  and  pretty  little  flowers.  What  is  the  use  of 
these  things  in  the  woods?  Tluit  remark  was  on  a  level  with  the 
old  dragoon's  intellect ;  but  I  am  surprised  at  this  intelligent  offi- 
cer, this  man  of  the  world,  this  martinet,  didn't  also  discover,  that 
he  who  neglects  himself,  soon  becomes  so  careless  as  to  neglect  his 
other  duties,  and  that  to  lose  sight  of  them  is  to  create  and  invite 
certain  ruin.  But  let  us  look  at  the  interior. 

'•There  are  some  pictures  on  the  walls,  and  there  are  yellow 
stains  were  others  hung.  Where  are  they  {  for  I  think  I  heard  a 
man  say  he  bought  them  on  accoiin*  of  their  handsome  frames, 
from  that  crack  -I/ruined  officer  at  Cucumber  Lake,  and  he  shut  hn 


$20  THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE. 

t-ye,  and  looked  knowning,  and  whispered,  'something  wrong  there, 
had  to  sell  out  of  the  army ;  some  queer  story  about  another  wife 
still  living;  don't  know  particulars.'  Poor  Dechamps,  you  are 
guiltless  of  that  charge  at  any  rate  to  my  certain  knowledge  ;  but 
how  often  does  slander  bequeath  to  folly,  that  which  of  rig kt  belongs 
to  another!  The  nick-knacks,  the  antique  china,  the  Apostles' 
spoons,  the  queer  little  old-fashioned  silver  ornaments,  the  French 
clock,  the  illustrated  works,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, — all*  all.  are 
gone.  The  housemaids  broke  some,  the  chiMren  destroyed  others, 
and  the  rest  were  sent  to  auction,  merely  to  secure  their  ^reservation. 
The  paper  is  stained  in  some  places,  in  others  has  pealed  off ;  but 
where  under  the  sun  have  ail  the  accomplishments  gone  to] 

'•The  piano  got  out  of  tune,  and  there  was  nobody  to  put  it  in 
order :  it  was  no  use ;  the  strings  were  taken  out,  and  the  case 
was  converted  into  a  cupboard.  The  machinery  of  the  harp 
became  rusty,  and  the  cords  were  wanted  for  something  else.  But 
what  is  the  use  of  these  things  in  the  woods  where  there  is  nobody 
to  see  them  ]  But  here  is  Mrs.  Dechamps.  Is  it  possible  1  My 
goody  gracious  as  I  am  a  living  sinner !  Well  1  never  in  all  my 
born  days!  what  a  dreadful  wreck!  you  know  how  handsome  she 
was.  Well,  1  won't  describe  her  now,  1  pity  her  too  much.  You 
know  1  said  they  were  counterparts,  just  made  for  each  other,  and 
so  they  were;  but  they  are  of  different  sexes,  made  of  different 
stuff,  and  trouble  has  had  a  different  effect  on  them.  He  has 
neglected  himself,  and  she  is  negligent  of  her  dress  too,  but  not  in 
the  same  way.  She  is  still  neat,  but  utterly  regardless  of  what 
her  attire  is  ;  but  let  it  be  what  it  may,  and  let  her  put  on  what 
she  will,  still  she  looks  like  a  lady.  But  her  health  is  gone,  and 
her  spirits  too  ;  and  in  their  place  a  little,  delicate  hectic  spot  has 
settled  in  her  cheek,  beautiful  to  look  at,  but  painful  to  think  of. 
This  faint  blu*h  is  kindly  sent  to  don  eal  consumption,  and  the 
faint  smile  is  assumed  to  hide  the  broken  heart.  If  it  didn't  sound 
unfeeliii,  I  should  say  she  was  booked  for  an  early  train  ;  but  I 
think  so,  if  1  don't  say  so.  The  hour  is  fixed,  .the  departure 
certain  ;  she  is  glad  to  leave  Epaigwit. 

"Somehow,  though,  1  must  say  1  am  a  little  disappointed  in  her 
She  was  a  soldier's  wife ;  I  thought  she  was  made  of  better  stuff 
and  if  she  had  died  would  have  at  least  died  game.     Suppose  they 
have  been  unfortunate  in  pitching  their  tent  '  on  the  home  of  th« 
wave,'  and  got  aground,  and  their  effects  have  been  thrown  over 
board  ;  \s  hat  is  that,  after  all "?     Thousands  have  done  the  same 
there  is  still  hope  for  them.     They  are  more  than  a  match  foi 
these  casualties  ;  how  is  it  she  has  given  up  so  soon  1     Well  don't 
allude  to  it,  but  there  is  a  sad  tragical  story  connected  with  that 
lake.      Do   you  recollect  that  beautiful   curly-headed  child,   her 
eldest  daughter,  that  she  used   tc  walk  with  at  Halifax?     Well, 


THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE.  821 

ahe  grew  up  into  a  magnificent  girl ;  she  was  full  of  health  and 
spirits,  and  as  fleet  and  a«»  wild  as  a  hare.  She  lived  in  the  woods 
and  on  the  lake.  She  didn't  shoot,  and  she  didn't  fish,  but  she 
accompanied  tho-»e  who  did.  The  beautiful  but  dangerous  bark 
canoe  was  her  delight;  she  never  was  happy  but  when  she  was  in 
it.  Tom  Hodges,  the  orphan  l>oy  they  had  brought  with  them 
from  the  regiment,  who  alone  of  all  their  servants  had  remained 
faithful  in  their  voluntary  exile,  was  the  only  one  permitted  to 
accompany  her ;  for  he  was  so  careful,  so  expert,  and  so  good  a 
swimmer.  Alas!  one  night  the  canoe  returned  not.  What  a  long, 
eager  anxious  night"  was  that !  but  towards  noon  the  next  day,  the 
upturned  bark  drifted  by  the  shore,  and  then  it  was  but  too  evident 
that  that  sad  event  which  the  anxious  mother  had  so  often  dreaded 
and  predicted  had  come  to  pass.  They  had  met  a  watery  grave. 
( )ften  and  often  were  the  whole  chain  of  lakes  explored,  but  their 
bodies  were  never  found.  Entangled  in  the  long  grass  and  sunken 
driftwood,  that  covered  the  bottom  of  these  basins,  it  was  not 
likely  they  would  ever  rise  to  the  surface. 

Htwas  impossible  to  contemplate  that  fearful  lake  without  a 
shudder.  They  must  leave  the  place  soon,  and  for  ever.  Oh,  had 
Emily's  life  been  spared,  she  could  have  endured  any  and  every- 
thing fur  her  sake.  Poor  thing  !  how  little  she  knew  what  she 
was  a  talking  about,  as  she  broke  the  seal  of  a  letter  in  a  well- 
known  hand.  Her  life  was  spared  ;  it  never  was  endangered. 
She  had  eloped  with  Tom  Hodges — she  had  reached  Boston — she 
was  very  happy  —Tom  was  all  kindness  to  her.  She  hoped  they 
would  forgive  her  and  write  to  her,  for  they  were  going  to  Cali- 
fornia, where  they  proposed  to  be  married  as  soon  as  they  arrived. 
Whoever  appealed  to  a  mother  for  forgiveness  in  vain?  Every- 
thing appeared  in  a  new  light.  The  child  had  been  neglected  ;  she 
ought  not  to  have  been  suffered  to  spend  so  much  of  her  time  with 
that  boy  ;  both  her  pan  nts  had  strangely  forgotten  that  they  had 
grown  up,  and — it' was  no  use  to  say  more.  Her  father  had  locked 
her  out  of  his  heart,  and  thrown  away  the  key  for  ever.  He  wished 
she  had  been  drowned,  for  in  that  case  she  would  have  died 
innocent ;  and  he  poured  out  such  a  torrent  of  imprecations,  that 
the  poor  mother  was  terrified  lest,  as  the  Persians  say,  these 
curses,  like  fowls,  might  return  home  to  roost,  or  like  prayers, 
might  be  heard,  and  procure  m«»re  than  was  asked. 

"  You  may  grieve  over  the  conduct  of  a  child,  and  lament  its 
untimely  death,  and  trust  in  God  for  his  mercy ;  but  no  human 
being  can  reverse  the  order  of  things,  and  first  mourn  the  decease 
of  a  child,  and  then  grieve  for  its  disgraceful  life;  for  there  is  a 
grave  again  to  be  dug,  and  who  knoweth  whether  the  end  shall  be 
peace  ?  \Ve  can  endure  much,  but  there  is  a  load  that  crusheth. 
Poor  thing !  you  were  right,  and  your  husband  wrong.  Woman- 
14* 


S22  THE     CUCUMBER     LAKE. 

like,  your  judgment  was  correct,  your  impulses  good,  and  your 
heart  in  the  right  place.  The  child  was  not  to  be  blamed,  but  its 
parents.  You  could,  if  yon  thought  proper,  give  up  society  and 
live  for  each  other  ;  you  had  p  oved  it.  and  knew  how  hollow  and 
false  it  was;  but  your  children  could  not  resign  what  they  never 
had,  nor  ignore  feelings  which  God  had  implanted  within  them. 
Nature  has  laws  which  must  and  will  be  obeyed.  The  swallow 
selects  its  mate,  builds  its  nest,  and  occupies  itself  in  nurturing  its 
young.  The  heart  must  have  something  to  love,  and  if  it  is 
restricted  in  its  choice,  it  will  bestow  its  affections  not  on  what  it 
would  approve  and  select,  but  upon  what  it  may  chance  to  find  • 
you  are  not  singular  in  your  domestic  affliction  ;  it  is  the  natural 
consequence  of  your  isolation,  and  I  have  known  it  happen  over 
and  over  again. 

"  Now,  Doctor,  let  us  return,  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  years,  as 
I  did,  to  Epaigwit.  I  shall  never  forget  the  impression  it  made 
upon  me.  It  was  about  this  season  of  the  year,  1  went  there  to 
fish,  intending  to  spend  the  night  in  a  camp,  so  as  to  be  ready  for 
the  morning  sport.  '  Why,  where  am  I,'  sais  I  to  myself,  when  I . 
reached  the  place.  'Why,  surely  this  aint  Cucumber  Lake  !  where 
is  that  beautiful  hanging  wood,  the  temptation  in  the  wilderness, 
that  ruined  poor  Dechamps?  gone,  not  cleared,  but  des:  roved; 
not  subdued  to  cultivation,  but  reduced  to  desolation.'  Tall  gaunt 
black  trees  stretch  out  their  withered  arms  on  either  side,  as  if 
balancing  th<  mselves  against  a  fall,  while  huge  trunks  lie  scattered 
over  the  ground,  where  they  fell  in  their  fierce  confl'ct  with  the  de- 
vouring fire  that  overthrew  them.  The  ground  is  thickly  covered 
with  a^hes,  and  large  white  glistening  granite  rocks,  which  had  for- 
merly been  concealed  by  rnoss,  the  creeping  evergreen,  and  the 
smiling,  blushing  May-flower,  now  rear  their  cold  snowy  heads,  that 
contrast  so  strangely  with  the  runereal  pall  that  envelopes  all  around 
them.  No  living  thing  is  seen  there,  nor  bird,  nor  animal,  nor  in- 
sect, nor  verdant  plant ;  even  the  hardy  fire-weed  has  not  yet 
ventured  to  intrude  on  this  scene  of  desolation,  and  the  woodpecker, 
afraid  of  the  atmosphere  which  charcoal  has  deprived  of  vitality, 
shrinks  back  in  terror  when  he  approaches  it.  Poor  Deehamps, 
had  you  remained  to  witness  this  awful  conflagration,  you  would 
have  observed  in  those  impenetrable  boulders  of  granite,  a  type 
of  the  hard,  cold,  unfeeling  world  around  you,  and  in  that  withered 
and  blackened  forest,  a  fitting  emblem  of  your  blighted  and  blasted 
prospects. 

"  But  if  the  trees  had  disappeared  from  that  side  of  the  lake, 
they  had  been  reproduced  on  the  other.  The  fields,  the  lawn,  and 
the  garden  were  overrun  with  a  second  growth  of  wood  that  had 
nearly  concealed  the  house  from  view.  It  was  with  some  difficulty 
1  forced  my  way  through  the  chaparel  (thicket),  which  was  rendered 


THE     £F  C  C  M  B  K  R     L  A  K  K .  823 

almost  impenetrable  by  thorns,  Virginia  creepers,  noneysuckles, 
and  sweet-briars,  that  had  spread  in  the  wildest  profusion.  The 
windows,  doors,  mantle-pieces,  bannisters,  and  every  portable  thin<r 
had  been  removed  from  the  house  by  the  blacks,  who  had  squatte'd 
in  the  neighborhood  ;  even  the  chimneys  had  been  taken  down  for 
the  bricks.  The  swallows  were  the  sole  tenants;  the  barn  had 
fallen  a  prey  to  decay  and  storms,  and  the  roof  lay  comparatively 
uninjured  at  some  distance  on  the  ground.  A  pair  of  glisteninor 
ej  es,  peeping  through  a  broken  board  at  the  end,  showed  me  that 
the  foxes  had  appropriated  it  to  their  own  use.  The  horse-stable, 
coach-house,  and  o:her  buildings,  were  in  a  similar  state  of  dilapi- 
dation. 

"  1  returned  to  the  camp,  and  learned  th.it  Mrs.  Dechamps  was 
reposing  in  peace  in  the  village  church-yard,  the  children  had  been 
sent  to  England  to  their  relatives,  and  the  Captain  was  residing  in 
California  with  his  daughter  and  Tom  Hodges,  who  were  the  richest 
people  in  San  Francisco." 

'•  What  a  sad  picture."  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Well,  it's  true  though,"  said  1,  "aint  it?" 

"  I  never  was  at  Cucumber  Lake,"  said  he,  smiling,  "  but  I  have 
known  several  similar  failures.  The  truth  is,  Mr.  Slick,  though  I 
needn't  tell  you,  for  you  know  better  than  I  do,  our  friend  Steele 
began  at  the  right  a  d  Dechamps  at  the  wrong  end.  The  pool 
native  ought  always  to  go  to  the  woods,  the  emigrant  or  gentleman 
never ;  the  one  is  a  rough  and  ready  man ;  he  is  at  home  with  an 
axe,  and  is  conversant  as  well  with  the  privations  and  requirements, 
as  with  the  expedients  and  shifts  of  fore«t  life;  his  condition  is 
ameliorated  every  year,  and  in  his  latter  days  he  can  afford  to  rest 
from  his  labors;  whereas,  if  he  buys  what  is  called  a  half-improved 
farm,  and  is  unable  to  pay  for  it  at  the  time  of  the  purchase,  the 
mortgage  is  almost  sure  to  ruin  him  at  last.  Now,  a  man  of  means 
who  retires  to  the  country  is  wholly  unfit  for  a  pioneer,  and  should 
never  attempt  to  become  one ;  he  should  purchase  a  farm  ready 
made  to  his  hands,  and  then  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  cultivate 
and  adorn  it.  It  takes  two  generations,  at  least,  to  make  such  a 
place  as  he  requires.  The  native,  again,  is  one  of  a  class,  and  the 
most  necessary  one,  too,  in  the  country  ;  the  people  sympathise 
with  him,  aid  and  encourage  him.  The  emigrant-gentleman  belongs 
to  no  class,  and  w  ins  no  affection ;  he  is  kindly  received  and 
judiciously  advised  by  people  of  his  own  standing  in  life,  but  he 
affects  to  consider  their  counsel  obtrusive  and  their  society  a  bore; 
he  is,  therefore,  suffered  to  proceed  his  own  way,  which  they  all 
•well  know,  as  it  has  been  so  often  travelled  before,  leads  to  ruin. 
They  pity,  but  they  can't  assist  him.  Yes,  yes,  your  sketch  of 
"Epaigwit"  is  so  close  to  nature,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  many  a  man 
who  reads  it,  should  think  he  sees  the  history  of  his  own  place 
under  the  name  of  '  tho  Cucumber  Luke.'  '* 


324  THE     RECALL^ 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    RECALL. 

IN  compiling  this  Journal,  Squire,  my  object  has  been  less  to  give 
you  the  details  of  my  cruise,  than  to  furnish  you  with  rny  remarks 
on  men  and  things  in  general.  Climate,  locality,  and  occupation, 
form  or  vary  character,  but  man  is  the  same  sort  of  critter  every- 
where To  know  him  thoroughly  he  must  be  studied  in  his  various 
aspects.  When  I  learned  drawing,  1  had  an  India-rubber  figure 
with  springs  in  it,  and  I  used  to  put  it  into  all  sorts  of  attitudes. 
Sometimes  it  had  its  arms  up,  and  sometimes  down,  now  a-kimbo, 
and  then  in  a  boxing  posture.  1  stuck  out  its  legs,  or  made  it  stand 
bolt  upright,  and  put  its  head  every  which  way  I  could  think  of, 
and  so  on.  It  taught  me  to  draw,  and  showed  me  the  effect  of 
light  and  shade.  So  in  sketching  human  character,  feelings,  preju- 
dices, and  motives  of  action.  I  have  considered  man  at  one  time  as 
a  politician,  a  preacher,  or  a  trader,  and  at  another  as  a  country- 
man or  a  citizen,  as  ignorant  or  wise,  and  so  on.  In  this  way  I 
soon  learned  to  take  his  guage  as  you  do  a  cask  of  spirits,  and 
prove  his  strength  or  weakness  by  the  bead  I  could  raise  on  him. 

if  1  know  anything  of  these  matters,  and  you  seem  to  consait  I 
do,  why  I  won't  act*  "Peter  Funk"  to  myself,  but  this  1  will  say 
"  Human  natur  is  my  weakness."  >{ow  I  think  it  best  to  send  you 
only  such  portions  of  my  Journal  as  will  interest  you,  for  a  mere 
diary  of  a  cruise  is  a  mere  nothing.  So  I  skip  over  my  sojourn  at 
C;mzeau,  and  a  trip  the  doctor  and  I  took  to  Prince  Edward's 
Island,  as  containing  nothing  but  a  sort  of  ship's  log,  and  will  pro- 
«_-eed  to  tell  you  about  our  sayings  and  doings  at  that  celebrated 
place  Louisburg,  in  Cape  Breton,  which  was  twice  besieged  and 
taken,  first  by  our  colony  forefathers  from  Boston,  and  then  by 
General  Wolfe,  the  Quebec  hero,  and  of  which  nothing  now  re- 
mains but  its  name,  which  you  will  find  in  history,  and  its  harbor, 
which  you  will  find  in  the  map.  The  French  thought  building  a 
fortress  was  colonization,  and  the  English  that  blowing  it  up  was 
the  right  way  to  settle  the  country.  The  world  is  wiser  now. 

As  we  approached  the  place  the  Doctor  said,  "  you  see,  Mr.  Slick, 
the  entrance  to  Louisburg  is  pointed  out  to  vovagers  coming  from 
the  eastward  by  the  ruins  of  an  old  French  lighthouse  and  the  lan- 
tern of  a  new  one  on  the  rocky  wall  of  the  north  shore,  a  few  min- 

*  At  petty  auctions  in  the  States  a  person  is  employed  to  bid  up  articles  in 
order  to  raise  their  price.  Such  a  person  is  called  a  Pet^r  Funk,  probably 
from  that  name  having  fre  [ucntly  been  given  when  things  were  bought  in.  la 
•hort.  it  is  now  used  as  u  "  puller." — BARTLETT. 


THE     K  K  C  A  L  T,  .  305 

j;es  after  approaching  which  the  mariner  shoots  from  a  fretful  sea 
into  the  smooth  and  capacious  port.  The  ancient  ruins  display 
even  yet  the  most  attractive  object  to  the  eve.  The  outline  <»f 
these  neglected  mounds,  you  observe,  is  boldly 'marked  against  the 
sky,  and  induces  a  visit  to  the  spot  where  the  fortress  once  stood 
L'>uisburg  is  everywhere  covered  with  a  mantle  of  turf,  and  with- 
out the  assistance  of  a  native  it  is  not  easy  to  discover  even  the 
foundations  of  the  public  buildings.  Two  or  three  casemates  still 
remain,  appearing  like  the  mouths  of  huge  ovens,  surmounted  by  a 
great  mass  of  earth  and  stone.  These  caverns,  originally  the  safe- 
guards of  powder  and  other  combustible  munitions  of  war,  now 
serve  to  shelter  the  flocks  of  sheep  that  graze  upon  the  grass  that 
conceals  them.  The  floors  are  rendered  nearly  impassable  by  the 
odor  of  these  animals,  but  the  vaulted  ceilings  are  adorned  by  de- 
pendant stalactites,  like  icicles  in  shape,  but  not  in  purity  of  color, 
being  of  a  material  somewhat  similar  to  oyster  shells.  The  mass 
of  stone*  and  brick  that  composed  the  buildings,  and  which  is  now- 
swept  so  completely  from  its  site,  has  been  distributed  along  the 
shores  of  America  as  far  as  Halifax  and  Boston,  having  been 
successively  carried  away  for  the  erections  in  those  places  and  the 
intermediate  coast,  which  contains  many  a  chimney  bearing  the 
memorials  of  Louisburg.  The  remains  of  the  different  batteries  on 
the  island  and  round  the  harbor  are  still  shown  by  the  inhabitants 
as  well  as  of  the  wharves,  stockade,  and  sunken  ships  of  war.  ( )n 
gaining  the  walls  above  the  town  they  are  found  to  consist  of  « 
range  of  earthen  fortifications  with  projecting  angles,  and  extending 
as  already  mentioned  from  the  harbor  to  the  sea,  interrupted  at  in 
tervals  bv  large  pits,  said  to  have  been  produced  by  the  efforts  of 
the  captors  to  blow  up  the  walls.  From  these  heights  the  glacis 
slopes  away  to  the  edge  of  the  bog  outside,  forming  a  beautiful 
level  walk,  though  now  only  enjoyed  by  the  sheep,  being,  like  the 
walls,  carpeted  by  short  turf.  At  the  termination  of  this  line  of 
fortification,  on  the  sea  shore,  is  a  huge  and  uncouth  black  rock, 
which  appears  to  have  been  formerly  quarried  for  building  stone, 
large  quantities  ready  hewn  being  still  scattered  round  it,  and  gath- 
ered in  masses  as  ii  prepared  for  that  use. 

"  The  prospect  from  the  brow  of  the  dilapidated  ramparts  is  one 
of  the  most  impressive  that  the  place  affords.  Looking  to  the 
south-west  over  the  former  city,  the  eye  wanders  upon  the  intermi- 
nable ocean,  its  blue  rolling  waves  occupying  three-fourths  of  the 
scene,  and  beyond  them,  on  the  verge  of  the  horizon,  a  dense  bank 
of  fo"  sweeps  along  with  the  prevailing  S.  W.  wind,  precluding  all 
hopes  of  discerning  any  vista  beyond  that  curtain.  Turning  land- 
wards *owards  the  sou'th-west,  over  the  spacious  bog  that  Ji 

•  See  Haliburton's  History  of  Nova  Scotia. 


?,2t5  THE     RECALL. 

the  foot  of  the  walls,  the  sight  is  met  by  a  range  of  low  wood  in 
the  direction  of  Gabarus,  and  can  penetrate  no  further.  The  har- 
bor is  the  only  prospect  to  the  northward,  and  immediately  in  its 
ivar  the  land  rises  so  as  to  prevent  any  more  distant  view,  anc 
even  the  harbor  appears  dwindled  to  a  miniature  of  itself,  being 
seen  in  the  same  picture  with  the  mighty  ocean  that  nearly  sur- 
rounds the  beholder.  The  character  of  the  whole  scene  is  melan 
choly,  presenting  the  memorials  of  former  life  and  population,  con 
trasted  with  its  present  apparent  isolation  from  the  natives  of  the 
earth.  The  impression  is  not  weakened  by  the  sight  of  the  few 
miserable  huts  scattered  along  the  shores  of  the  port,  and  the  little 
fishing  vessels  scarcely  perceptible  in  the  mountain  swell  of  the 
ocean  ;  they  serve  but  to  recall  painfully  the  images  of  elegant  edi- 
fices that  once  graced  the  foreground,  and  of  proud  flags  that  waved, 
upon  the  face  of  that  heaving  deep. 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  give  a  reason  for  the  continued  desolation  of 
Louisburg.  A  harbor  opening  directly  upon  the  sea,  whence  egress 
is  unobstructed  and  expeditious,  and  return  equally  convenient  at 
all  seasons;  excellent  fishing  grounds  at  the  very  entrance;  space 
on  shore  for  all  the  operations  of  curing  the  fish;  every  advantage 
for  trade  and  the  fisheries  is  offered  in  vain.  The  place  would  ap- 
pear to  be  shunned  by  tacit  consent.  The  shallops  come  from 
Arichet  and  St.  Peter's  Bay  to  fish  at  its  very  mouth,  but  no  one 
sets  up  his  establishment  there.  The  merchants  resort  to  every 
station  in  its  vicinity,  to  Main-a-Dieu,  the  Bras  d'Or,  St.  Anne,  In- 
ganish,  nay  even  Cape  North,  places  holding  out  no  advantage  to 
compare  with  those  of  Louisburg,  yet  no  one  ventures  there.  The 
fatality  that  hangs  over  places  of  fallen  celebrity  seems  to  press 
heavily  on  this  once  valued  spot." 

'•  Massa  Doctor,"  said  Sorrow,  when  he  heard  this  description, 
"  peers  to  me,  dt-m  English  did  gib  de  French,  goss  widout  sweet- 
enin,  most  particular  jesse  ;  dat  are  a  nateral  fac.  By  golly,  but 
dey  was  strange  folks  boff*  on  em.  Ki,  dey  must  been  gwine 
stracted  sure  as  you  born,  when  dey  was  decomposed  (angry)  wid 
each  other,  to  come  all  de  way  out  here  to  fight.  Lordy  gracious, 
peers  to  me  crossin  de  sea  might  a  cooled  them,  sposin  dar  hair 
was  rumpled." 

"  You  are  right,  Sorrow,"  said  I ;  "  and  Doctor,  niggers  and 
women  often  come  to  a  right  conclusion,  though  they  cannot  give 
the  right  reasons  for  it,  don't  they  ?" 

"  Oh,  oh,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  be,  u  pray  don't  class  ladies  and  nig- 
grrs  together.  Oh,  I  thought  you  had  more  gallantry  about  you 
than  that." 

"  Exactly,"  sais  I,  "  there  is  where  the  shoe  pinches.  You  are 
a  so  far  and  no  further  emancipationist.  '  You  will  break  up  the 
social  system  of  the  south,  deprive  the  planter  of  his  slave,  and  set 


THE     RECALL.  325 

the  nigger  free  ,  but  you  will  not  admit  him  to  your  family  circle, 
associate  with  him,  or  permit  him  to  intermarry  with  your  daugh- 
ter. Ah,  Doctor,  you  can  emancipate  him,  but  you  can't  emanci- 
pate yourself  You  are  willing  to  give  him  the  liberty  of  a  dog; 
he  may  sleep  in  your  stable,  exercise  himself  in  the  coach-yard,  and 
may  stand  or  run  behind  your  carriage,  but  he  must  not  enter  the 
House,  for  he  is  offensive,  nor  eat  at  your  table,  for  the  way  he 
devours  his  food  is  wolfish;  you  unchain  him,  and  that  is  all.  But 
before  the  collar  was  unfastened  he  was  well  and  regularly  fed, 
now  he  has  to  forage  for  it;  and  if  he  can't  pay  for  his  grub,  he 
can  and  will  steal  it.  Abolition  has  done  great  things  for  him.  He 
was  once  a  life  laborer  on  a  plantation  in  the  south,  he  is  now  a 
prisoner  for  life  in  a  penitentiary  in  the  north,  or  an  idle  vagrant, 
and  a  shameless,  houseless  beggar.  The  fruit  of  cant  is  indeed  bit- 
ter. The  Yankees  emancipated  their  niggars  because  it  didn't  pay 
to  keep  slaves.  They  n<>w  want  the  southern  planters  to  liberate 
theirs  for  conscience  sake.  But  here  we  are  on  the  beach  ;  let  us 
land.' 

After  taking  a  survey  of  the  scene  from  the  sight  of  the  old 
town,  we  sat  down  on  one  of  the  eastern  mounds,  and  the  Doctor 
continued  his  account  of  the  place.  "  It  took  the  French  twenty- 
five  years  to  erect  Louisburg,"  he  said,  "and  ihough  not  completed 
according  to  the  original  design,  it  cost  not  less  than  thirty  millions 
of  hvres.  It  was  environed,  two  miles  and  a  half  in  circumference, 
with  a  stone  wall  from  thirty  to  thirty-fcix  feet  high,  and  a  ditch 
eighiy  feet  wide.  There  was,  as  you  will  see,  six  bastions  and 
eight  batteries,  with  embrasures  for  one  hundred  and  forty-eight 
cannon.  On  the  island,  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor  which  we 
just  passed,  was  a  battery  of  thirty  twenty-eight  pounders,  and  at 
the  bottom  of  the  port  .another  mounting  thirty-eight  heavy  guns. 
In  1745,  a  plan  for  taking  it  was  conceived  by  a  colonial-lawyer,  a 
Governor  of  Massachusetts,  and  executed  by  a  body  of  New  Eng. 
land  volunteers,  led  on  by  a  country  trader.  History  can  hardly 
furnish  such  another  instance  of  courage  and  conduct  in  an  undisci- 
p'ined  body,  laying  siege  to  a  regular  constructed  fortress  like  this. 
Commodore  Warren,  when  first  applied  to  for  assistance,  declined 
to  aHbrd  it,  as  well  because  he  had  no  orders  as  that  he  thought  the 
enterprise  a  rash  one.  He  was,  however,  at  last  instructed  from 
home  to  co-operate  with  the  Yankee  troops,  and  arrived  in  season 
to  witness  the  progress  of  the  siege,  and  receive  the  whole  of  the 
lionor  which  was  so  exclusively  due  to  the  provincials.  This  act 
of  insolence  ami  injustice  on  the  part  of  the  Briti>h  was  never  for- 
gotten by  your  countrymen,  but  the  memoiy  of  favors  is  short- 
Jived,  and  a  similar  distribution  of  rewards  has  lately  surprised  and 
annoyed  the  Canadians.  The  colonist  who  raised  the  militia  and 
saved  Canada,  as  vou  have  justly  remarked  elsewhere,  was 


328  THE     RECALL. 

knighted,  while  he  who  did  no  more  than  his  duty  as  an  officer  u 
the  army,  was  compensated  for  two  or  three  little  affairs  in  which 
the  soldiers  were  engaged,  by  a  coronet  and  a  pension." 

"•  Exactly,"  says  I,  "  what's  sauce  for  the  goose  ought  to  be 
sauce  for  the  gander;  but  it  seems  English  geese  are  all  swans.'' 

"  Well,  in  1758,  it  was  again  taken  by  the  English,  who  attacked 
it  with  an  immense  and  overpowering  armament,  consisting  of  151 
sail  and  14,000  men.  Profiting  by  the  experience  of  the  pro 
vincials,  they  soon  reduced  the  place,  which  it  is  astonishing  could 
have  made  any  resistance  at  all  against  such  an  overwhelming 
force.  Still,  this  attack  was  mosily  an  English  one;  and  though 
it  dwindles  into  utter  insignificance,  when  compared  with  the  pre- 
vious capture  by  the  colonists,  occasioned  a  great  outbreak  of 
national  pride.  The  French  colors  were  carried  in  pompous 
parade,  escorted  by  detachments  of  horse  and  foot-guards,  with 
kettle-drums  and  trumpets,  from  the  palace  of  Kensington  to  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral,  where  they  were  deposited  as  trophies,  under  a 
discharge  of  cannon,  and  other  noisy  expressions  of  triumph  and 
exultation.  Indeed,  the  public  rejoicings  for  the  conquest  of  Lou- 
isburg,  were  diffused  through  every  part  of  the  British  dominions; 
and  addresses  of  congratulation  were  presented  to  the  king  by  a 
great  number  of  flourishing  towns  and  corporations." 

"  Twenty-five  years  afterwards,  the  colonists  who  were  denied 
the  credit  of  their  gallant  enterprise,  made  good  their  claim  to  it 
by  conquering  those  who  boasted  that  they  were  the  conquerors 
themselves.'' 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  Doctor,"  said  I,  "  for  I  concur 
in  it  all.  The  English  are  liberal,  but  half  the  time  they  ain't  just. 
Spendin  money  in  colonies  is  one  thing,  but  givin  them  lair  play  is 
another.  The  army  complains  that  all  commendation  and  promo- 
tion is  reserved  for  the  staff.  Provincials  complain  of  similar 
injustice,  but  there  is  this  wide  difference,  the  one  has  the  Times 
lor  its  advocate,  the  other  is  unheard  or  unheeded.  An  honest 
statesman  will  not  refuse  to  do  justice — a  wily  politician,  will  con- 
cede with  grace  what  he  knows  he  must  soon  yield  to  compulsion. 
The  old  Tory  was  a  man  after  all,  every  inch  of  him." 

u  Now,"  sais  the  Doctor,  "that  lemark  reminds  me  of  what  1 
have  long  intended  to  ask  you,  if  1  got  a  chance.  How  is  it,  Mr. 
Slick,  that  you,  who  are  a  republican,  whenever  you  speak  of  Eng- 
land, are  so  conservative?  It  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  it  warn'c 
quite  natural.  If  1  didn't  know  you,  I  should  say  your  books  were 
written  by  a  colonist,  who  had  used  your  name  lor  a  medium  for 
giving  his  own  ideas." 

"  Well,"  sais  1,  "Doctor,  I  am  glad  you  asked  me,  for  I  have 
thought  myself  it  wasn't  unlikely  some  folks  would  full  into  that 
mistake.  I'll  tel'  you  how  this  comes,  though  1  wouldn't  take  the 


THE     RECALL.  309 

trr  nble  to  enlighten  others,  for  it  kinder  amuses  me  to  see  a  fellow 
fin]  a  mare's  nest  with  a  te  hee's  egg  in  it.  Fiist,  I  believe  that  a 
republic  is  the  only  form  of  government  suited  to  us,  or  practica- 
ble in  North  America.  A  limited  monarchy  could  not  exist  in 
the  states,  for  royalty  and  aristocracy  never  had  an  original  root 
there.  A  military  or  despotic  one  could  be  introduced,  because  a 
standing  army  can  do  anything,  but  it  couldn't  last  long.  Liberty 
is  too  deeply  seated,  and  too  highly  prized,  to  be  suppressed  fo 
any  length  of  time. 

"  Now,  I  like  a  republic,  but  1  hate  a  democracy.  The  wit  of 
man  never  could  have  devised  anything  more  beautiful,  better  bal 
anced,  and  more  skilfully  checked,  than  our  constitution  is,  or 
rather  was;  but  every  change  we  make  is  for  the  worse.  1  am 
therefore,  a  conservative  at  home.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Eng- 
lish  constitution  is  equally  well  suited  to  the  British.  It  is  admi- 
rably adapted  to  the  genius,  traditions,  tastes,  and  feelings  of  the 
people.  They  are  not  fitted  for  a  republic.  They  tried  it  once, 
and  they  failed  ;  and  if  they  were  to  try  it  again,  it  would  not  sue 
ceed.  Every  change  they  make  is  also  for  the  worse.  In  talking, 
therefore,  as  I  do,  I  only  act  and  talk  consistently,  when  I  say  I  am 
a  conservative  abroad,  also. 

"  Conservatism,  both  in  the  States  and  in  Great  Britain,  when 
rightly  understood,  has  a  fixed  principle  of  action,  which  is  to  con- 
serve the  constitution  of  the  country,  and  not  subvert  it.  Now, 
liberalism  everywhere  is  distinguished  by  having  no  principle.  In 
England,  it  longs  for  office,  and  sacrifices  everything  to  it.  It  dues 
nothing  but  pander.  It  says  religion  is  a  matter  of  taste,  leave  it 
to  itself  aud  it  will  take  care  of  itself — now  that  maxim  was  forced 
on  us  by  necessity,  for  at  the  revolution  we  scarcely  had  an  Episco- 
pal church,  it  was  so  small  as  hardly  to  deserve  the  name.  But,  in 
England,  it  is  an  unconstitutional,  irrational,  and  monstrous  maxim. 
Still  it  suits  the  views  of  Romanists,  (although  they  hold  no  such 
doctrine  themselves),  for  it  is  likely  to  hand  over  the  church  reven- 
ues in  Ireland  to  them.  It  also  suits  Dissenters,  for  it  will  relieve 
them  of  church  rates,  and  it  meets  the  wishes  of  the  republican 
party,  because  they  know  no  church  and  no  bishop  will  soon  lead 
to  no  monarch.  Again  it  says,  enlarge  the  franchise,  so  as  to  give 
an  increase  of  voters ;  that  doctrine  suits  all  those  sections  also, 
for  it  weakens  both  monarchy  and  aristocracy.  Then  again  it  ad- 
vocates  freest rade,  for  that  weakens  the  landed  interest,  and  knocks 
from  under  nobility  one  of  its  best  pillars.  To  lower  the  influence 
of  the  church  pleases  all  political  come-outers.  some  for  one,  and 
some  for  another  reason.  Their  views  are  not  identical,  but  it  J* 
for  their  interest  to  unite.  One  advocates  it  because  it  destroys 
Protestantism  as  a  principle  of  the  constitution,  another  because  tlic 
materials  of  this  fortress,  like  those  of  Louisburg,  may  be  useful 
1  i  irivri'n  i-ilieis,  and  amoiig  them  conventicle*.  • 


330  T  II  K     K  K  C  A  I.  L  . 

'•Then  there  is  no  truth  in  liberalism.  When  Irish  emancipation 
was  discussed,  it  was  said,  pass  that  and  you  will  hear  no  more 
grievances,  it  will  tend  to  consolidate  the  church  and  pacify  the 
people.  It  was  no  sooner  granted,  than  ten  bishopricks  were  sup- 
pressed, and  monster  meetings  paraded  through  and  terrified  the 
land.  One  cardinal  came  in  place  of  ten  Protestant  prelates,  and 
so  on.  So  liberalism  said  pass  the  Reform  Bill,  and  all  England 
•will  be  satisfied;  well,  though  it  has  not  worked  well  for  the  king- 
dom, it  has  done  wonders  for  the  radical  party,  and  now  another 
and  more  extensive  one  is  promised.  The  British  Lion  has  been 
fed  with  living  raw  meat,  and  now  roars  for  more  victims.  It  'taint 
easy  to  onseat  liberals,  1  tell  you,  for  they  know  how  to  pander. 
If  you  promise  power  to  those  who  have  none,  you  must  have  the 
masses  with  you.  1  could  point  you  out  some  fellows  that  are  suro 
to  win  the  dead*  heads,  the  doughf  boys,  the  numerous  body  that 
is  on  the  fencej  and  political  "come  outers/'^  There  is  at  this 
time  a  postponed  Reformed  Bill.  The  proposer  actually  cried  when 
it  was  deferred  to  another  session.  It  nearly  broke  his  heart.  He 
couldn't  bear  that  the  public  should  have  it  to  say,  *  they  had  seen 
the  elephant.' 

"  Seeing  the  elephant,"  said  the  Doctor,  ':  was  he  so  large  a  man 
as  that ]" 

"  Lord  bless  you,''  sais  I,  "  no,  he  is  a  little  man,  that  thinks  he 
pulls  the  wires,  like  one  of  Punch's  small  figures,  but  the  wires 
pull  him,  and  set  him  in  motion.  It  is  a  cant  term  we  have,  and 
signifies  '  going  out  for  wool  and  coming  back  shorn.'  Yes,  he 
actually  shed  tears,  like  a  cook  peelin  onions.  He  reminded  me 
of  a  poor  fellow  at  Slickville,  w~fio  had  a  family  of  twelve  small 
children.  His  wife  took  a  day,  and  died  one  fine  morning,  leaving 
another  youngster  to  complete  the  baker's  dozen,  and  next  week 
that  dear  little  innocent  died  too.  He  took  on  dreadfully  about  it. 
He  boo-hooed  right  out,  which  is  more  than  the  politicioner  did 
over  his  chloroformed  bill. 

"  '  Why,'  sais  I,  '  Jeddediah,  you  ought  to  be  more  of  a  man 
than  to  take  on  that  way.  With  no  means  to  support  your  family 
of  poor  helpless  little  children,  with  no  wife  to  look  after  them, 

*  Dead  heads  may  perhaps  be  best  explained  by  substituting  the  words  "  the 
unproductive  class  of  operatives,"  such  as  spend  their  time  in  ale  houses.  Dem- 
agogues, the  men  who,  with  free  tickets,  travel  in  steam-boats,  frequent  thea- 
tres, tavern-keepers,  &c. 

t  Pliable  politicians,  men  who  are  accessible  to  personal  influences  or  consid- 
erations. 

t  A  man  is  said  to  be  on  afencf,  who  is  ready  to  join  the  strongest  party  ; 
because  he  who  sits  on  a  fence  is  in  a  position  to  jump  down,  with  equal  facility. 
on  either  side  of  it. 

§  "  Political  come-outers,"  are  the  loose  fish  of  all  parties.  Dissenters  from 
their  own  tide.  See  Bartlctt's  definition* 


THE     RKCALL  yt.[ 

an.!  no  airthlv  way  to  pay  a  woman  to  dry  nurse  and  starve  the 
Un  7'        *  mCrCy  Jt  dld  ^  ^  WaS  takeU  °Ut  ofthis 


»'  1  know  it  and  feel  it  Mr.  Sam,"  said  he,  lookin  up  in  a  way 
that  nobody  but  him  could  look,  '  but—'  ! 

'•'But  what?'  sais  I. 

"  '  Why,'  sais  he,  '  but  it  don't  do  to  say  so,  you  know  ' 

"  Jist  then  s..me  of  the  neighbors  came  in,  when  he  burst  out 
wuss  than  before,  and  groaned  like  a.  thousand  sinners  at  a  camn 
meetm. 

"Most  likely  the  radical  father  of  the  strangled  reform  bill  com- 
forted himself  with  the  same  reflection,  only  he  thought  it  wouldn't 
do  to  say  so.  Crocodiles  can  cry  when  they  are  hunqry,  but  when 
they  do  it's  time  to  vamose  the  poke-loken,*  that's  a  fact.  Yes, 
yes,  they  understand  these  things  to  England,  as  well  as  we  do, 
you  may  depend.  They  warn't  born  yesterday.  But  I  wont  fol- 
low it  out.  Liberalism  is  playing  the'devil  bo'th  with  us  and  the 
British.  Change  is  going  on  with  railroad  haste  in  America,  but  in 
England,  though  it  travels  not  so  fast,  it  never  stops,  and  like  a 
steam-packet  that  has  no  freight,  it  daily  increases  its  rate  of  speed 
as  it  advances  towards  the  end  of  the  voyage.  Now  you  have  my 
explanation,  Doctor,  why  I  am  a  conservative  on  principle,  both  at 
home  and  abroad." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Doctor,  "that  is  true  enough  as  far  as  Eng- 
land is  concerned,  but  still  1  don't  quite  understand  how  it  is,  as  a 
republican,  you  are  so  much  of  a  conservative  at  home,  for  your 
reasons  appear  to  me  to  be  more  applicable  to  Britian  than  to  the 
United  States." 

"  Why,"  sais  I,  "  my  good  friend,  liberalism  is  the  same  thing 
in  both  countries,  though  its  work  and  tactics  may  be  different.  It 
is  destructive,  but  not  creative.  It  tampers  with  the  checks  and 
balances  of  our  constitution.  It  flatters  the  people  by  removing 
the  restraints  they  so  wisely  phiced  on  themselves  to  curb  their 
own  impetuosity.  It  has  shaken  the  stability  of  the  judiciary  by 
making  the  experiment  of  electing  the  judges.  It  has  abolished 
equity  in  name,  but  infused  it  so  strongly  in  the  administration  of 
the  law  that  the  distinctive  boundaries  are  destroyed,  and  the  will 
of  the  court  is  now  substituted  for  both.  In  proportion  as  the 
independence  of  these  high  officers  is  diminished,  their  integrity 
:nay  be  doubted.  Elected,  and  subsequently  sustained  by  a  fac- 
tion, they  become  its  tools,  and  decide  upon  party,  and  not  legal 
grounds,  in  like  manner,  wherever  the  franchise  was  limited,  the 
limit  is  attempted  to  be  removed.  '  We  are,  'n  fact,  fast  merging 

•  Poke-1  iken.  a  mar*'../  place,  or  stagnant  pool,  connected  with  a  rivci 


332  T  II  K     K  K  C  A  L  L  . 

into  a  mere,  purs  democracy,*  for  the  first  blow  on  the  point  of  the 
wedge  that  secures  the  franchise,  weakens  it  so  that  it  is  sure  to 
come  out  at  last.  Our  liberals  know  this  as  well  as  your  British 
Gerrymandered  do." 

'•  Gerry manderers,'"f  he  said,  "  who  in  the  world  are  they  1  ' 
never  heard  of  them  before." 

';  Why,"  sais  I,  "skilful  politicians,  who  so  arrange  the  electoral 
districts  of  a  state,  that  in  an  election  one  party  may  obiain  an  ad- 
vantage over  its  opponent,  even  though  the  latter  may  possess  a 
majority  of  the  votes  in  the  state;  the  truth  is,  it  would  be  a  long 
story  to  go  through,  but  we  are  corrupted  by  our  liberals  with  our 
own  money,  that's  a  fact.  Would  you  believe  it  now,  that  so  long 
ago  as  six  years,  and  that  is  a  great  while  in  our  history,  seein'  we 
are  growing  at  such  a  rate,  there  were  sixty  thousand  offices  in  the 
gift  of  the  general  government,  and  patronage  to  the  extent  of  more 
than  forty  million  of  dollars,  besides  official  pickings  and  parqui- 
sites,  which  are  nearly  as  much  more  in  the  ugg/egate.  Since  then 
it  has  grown  with  our  growth.  Or  would  you  believe  that  a  larger 
sum  is  assessed  in  the  city  of  New  York,  than  would  cover  the 
expenses  of  the  general  government  of  Waslunyton.  Constructive 
mileage  may  be  considered  as  the  principle  of  the  party,  and 
literally  runs  through  everything." 

"  What  strange  terms  you  have,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  do,  pray, 
tell  me  what  that  is." 

"Snooping  and  stool-pidgeoning,"  sais  I. 

"  Constructive  mileage,  snooping  and  stool-pidgeoning!!"  said 
he,  and  he  put  his  hands  on  his  ribs,  and  running  round  in  a  circle, 

*  De  Tocqueville,  who  has  written  incomparably  the  best  work  that  has  ever 
appeared  on  the  United  States,  makes  the  following  judicious  remarks  on  this 
subject  :  '"  Where  a  nation  modifies  the  elective  qualification,  it  may  easily  be 
foreseen,  that  sooner  or  later  that  qualification  will  be  abolished.  There  is  no 
more  invariable  rule  in  the  history  of  society.  The  farther  electoral  rights  are 
extended,  the  more  is  felt  the  need  of  extending  them  ;  for  after  each  conces- 
sion, the  strength  of  the  democracy  increases,  and  its  demands  increase  with  itg 
strength.  The  ambition  of  those  who  are  below  the  appointed  rate  is  irritated, 
in  exact  proportion  of  the  number  of  those  who  are  above  it.  The  exception 
at  last  becomes  the  rule,  concession  follows  concession,  a..d  no  step  can  be 
made,  short  of  universal  suffrage. 

t  This  term  came  into  use  in  the  year  1811,  in  Massachusetts,  where,  tor 
several  years  previous,  the  Federal  and  Democratic  parties  stood  nearlv  equal. 
In  that  year,  the  Democratic  party,  having  a  majority  in  the  Legislature,  deter- 
mined so  to  district  the  State  anew,  that  those  sections  which  gave  a  large  num- 
ber of  Federal  votes,  might  be  brought  into  one  district.  The  result  was,  that 
the  Democratic  party  carried  everything  before  them  at  the  following  election, 
and  rilled  every  office  in  the  State,  although  it  appeared  by  the  votes  returned, 
that  nearly  two-thirds  of  the  votes  were  Federalists.  Eldridge  Gerry,  a  distin- 
guished politician,  at  that  period,  was  the  inventor  of  that  plan,  which  was 
called  gerrymandering,  after  him  — Glossary  of  \meric  <ini»ms. 


THE     RECALL.  333 

laughed   until  he  nearly  fell  on  the  ground  fairly  tucWed  out 
<k  what  d<>  you  mean  ?" 

"Constructive  mileage,"  sais  I,  "is  the  same  allowance  for 
journeys  supposed  to  be  performed,  as  for  those  that  are  actually 
made,  to  and  from  the  seat  of  government.  When  a  new  f  resident 
comes  into  office,  Congress  adjourns,  of  course,  on  the  third  of 
March,  and  his  inauguration  is  made  on  the  fourth ;  the  senate  is 
immediately  convened  to  act  on  his  nominations,  and  though  not  a 
man  of  them  leaves  Washington,  each  is  supposed  to  go  nome  and 
return  again,  in  the  course  of  the  ten  or  twelve  hours  that  intervene 
between  the  adjournment  and  their  reassembling.  For  this  ideal 
journey  the  senators  are  allowed  their  mileages,  as  if  the  journey 
was  actually  made.  In  the  case  of  those  who  come  from  a  distance, 
the  sum  often  amounts,  individually,  to  one  thousand  or  fifteen 
hundred  dollars." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Slick,"  said  he,  "  that  ain't  honest." 

"  Honest,"  said  I  ; .  who  the  plague  ever  said  it  was ;  but  what  ' 
can  you  expect  from  red  republicans?  Well,  snooping  means  tak- 
ing things  on  the  sly  after  a  good  rummage,  and  stool-pidgeoning 
means  plundering  under  cover  of  law ;  for  instance,  if  a  judge 
takes  a  bribe,  or  a  fellow  is  seized  by  a  constable,  and  the  stolen 
property  found  on  him  is  given  up,  the  merciful  officer  seizes  the 
goods  and  lets  him  run,  and  that  is  all  that  is  ever  heard  of  it — 
that  is  stool-pidgeoning.  But  now."'  sais  1,  '•  sposin'  we  take  a  sur 
vey  of  the  place  here,  for  in  a  general  way  I  don't  affection  politics, 
and  as  for  party  leaders,  whether  English  reformers  or  American 
democrats,  critters  that  are  dyed  in  the  wool,  I  hate  the  whole 
caboodle  of  them.  Now  having  donated  you  with  my  reasons  for 
being  a  conservative,  sposin'  you  have  a  row  yourself.  What  do 
you  consider  best  worth  seeing  here,  if  you  can  be  said  to  see  a 
place  when  it  don't  exist ;  for  the  English  did  sartainly  deacon  the 
calf*  here,  that's  a  fact.  They  made  them  smell  cotton,  and  gave 
them  partikilar  moses,  and  no  mistake." 

"  Of  the  doings  of  the  dead,"  he  said,  "  all  that  is  around  us  has 
a  melancholy  interest ;  but  of  the  living  there  is  a  most  extraordi- 
nary old  fellow  that  dwells  in  that  white  house  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  harbor.  He  can  tell  us  all  the  particulars  of  the  two  sieges, 
and  show  us  the  site  of  most  of  the  public  buildings;  he  is  filled 
with  anecdotes  of  all  the  principal  actors  in  the  sad  tragedies  that 
have  been  enacted  here ;  but  he  labors  under  a  most  singular  mo- 
nomania. Having  told  these  stories  so  often,  he  now  believes  that 
he  was  present  at  the  first  capture  of  the  fortress,  under  Colonel 
Fepperal  and  the  New  England  militia,  in  1745,  and  at  the  second 
•n  175-1  when  it  was  t-rken  by  Generals  Amherst  and  Wolfb.  I 

•  To  deacon  a  calf,  is  to  knock  a  thin-*  on  the  head  as  soon  as  born  or  finished 


1HK     RECALL. 

suppose  he  may  be  ninety  years  of  age  ;  the  first  event  must  have 
happened  therefore  nineteen,  and  the  other,  six  years  before  he  was 
born  ;  in  everything  else  his  accuracy  of  dates  and  details  is  per- 
fectly astonishing." 

"  M;issa,"  said  Sorrow,  "  I  don't  believe  he  is  nuffin  bur,  a  ree- 
blushionary  suspensioncr  (a  revolutionary  pensioner),  but  it  peers 
dem  tolks  do  lib  for  ebber.  My  poor  old  Missus  used  to  call  'em 
King  George's  hard  bargains,  yah,  yah,  yah.  But  who  come  dere, 
Massa?"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  boat,  that  was  rapidly  approaching 
the  spot  where  we  stood. 

The  steersman,  who  appeared  to  be  the  skipper  of  a  vessel,  in- 
quired for  Cutler  and  gave  him  a  letter ; — who  said,  as  soon  as  he 
had  read  it,  "  Slick,  our  cruise  has  come  to  a  sudden  termination. 
Blow  hard  ha<  purchased  and  fitted  out  his  whaler,  and  only  awaits 
my  return  to  take  charge  of  her  and  proceed  to  the  Pacific.  With 
his  usual  generosity,  he  has  entered  my  name  as  the  owner  of  one 
half  of  the  ship,  her  tackle  and  outfit.  I  must  go  on  board  the 
'Black  Hawk'  immediately,  and  prepare  for  departing  this 


evening." 


It  was  agreed  that  he  should  land  the  Doctor  at  Ship  Harbor, 
who  was  anxious  to  see  Jessie,  which  made  him  as  happy  as  a  clam 
at  high-water, — and  put  me  ashore  at  Jordan,  where  1  was  no  less 
in  a  hurry  to  see  a  fair  friend  whose  name  is  of  no  consequence 
now,  for  1  hope  to  induce  her  to  change  it  for  one  that  is  far  shorter, 
easier  to  write  and  remember ;  and  though  I  say  it  that  shouldn't 
say  it, — one  that,  I  consait,  she  needn't  be  ashamed  of  neither. 

On  our  way  back,  sais  the  Doctor  to  me  : 

"  Mr.  Slick,  will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  another  question  ?" 

"  A  hundred,"  sais  I,  '•  if  you  like." 

'•  Well,"  sais  he,  '•  I  have  inquired  of  you  what  you  th'mk  of 
state  affairs  ;  will  you  tell  me  what  you  think  about  the  Church  ? 
I  see  you  belong  to  what  we  call  the  Establishment,  and  what  you 
denominate  the  American  Episcopal  Church,  which  is  very  nearly 
the  same  thing.  What  is  your  opinion  now,  of  the  Evangelical  and 
Puseyite  parties  ?  Which  is  right,  and  which  is  wrong  ?" 

"  Well,"  sais  I,  "coming  to  me  about  theology  is  like  going  to  a 
goat's  house  for  wool.  It  is  out  of  my  line.  My  views  on  all  sub- 
jects are  practical,  and  not  theoretical.  But  first  and  foremost,  I 
must  tell  you,  I  hate  all  nick-names.  In  general,  they  are  all  a 
critter  knows  of  his  own  side,  or  the  other  either.  As  you  have 
asked  me  my  opinion,  though  I  will  give  it,  1  think  both  parties  aro 
wrong,  because  both  go  to  extremes,  and  are  therefore  to  be 
equally  avoided.  Our  articles,  as  dear  old  Minister  used  to  say,  art; 
very  wisely  so  worded  as  to  admit  of  some  considerable  latitndn 
of  opinion;  but  that  very  latitude  naturally  excludes  anything 
ultra.  Th.>  Puritanical  section,  and  the  Newmanites  (for  Pusey, 


THE     RECALL.  335 

fto  far,  is  steadfast),  are  not,  in  fact,  real  churchmen,  and  ought  to 
leave  us.  One  are  dissenters,  and  the  other  Romanists.  Th.j 
ground  they  severally  stand  on  is  slippery.  A  false  step  takes  one 
to  the  conventicle,  and  the  other  to  the  chapel.  Jf  I  was  an  Evan- 
gelical,  as  an  honest  man,  I  would  quit  the  Establishment,  as  Bap- 
tist Noel  did.  and  so  I  would  if  I  were  a  Newmanite.  it's  i.nlv 
rats  that  consume  the  food  and  undermine  the  foundations  of  the 
house  that  shelters  them.  A  traitor  within  the  camp  is  more  to  be 
dread'jd  than  an  open  enemy  without.  Of  the  two,  the  extreme 
low-churchmen  are  the  most  dangerous,  for  they  furnish  the  great- 
er number  of  recruits  for  schism,  and,  strange  to  say,  for  popery 
too.  Search  the  list  of  those  who  have  gone  over  to  Rome,  from 
Ahab  Meldrum  to  Wilbertbrce,  and  \ou  will  find  the  majority  were 
originally  Puritans  or  infidels — men,  who  were  restless,  a  ,d  ambi- 
tious of  notoriety — who  had  learning  and  talent,  hut  wanted 
common  sense.  They  set  out  to  astonish  the  world,  and  ended  by 
astonUhing  themselves.  They  went  forth  in  pursuit  of  a  name,  and 
lost  the  only  one  they  were  known  by.  Who  can  recognize  New- 
man in  Father  Ignatius,  who,  while  searching  for  truth,  embraced 
en  or  ?  or  Baptist  Noel  in  the  strolling  preacher,  who  uses  a  horse- 
pond  instead  of  a  font,  baptizes  adults  instead  of  infants,  and,  unlike 
hi-  Master,  '  will  not  sutler  little  children  to  come  unto  him.*  Ah, 
Doctor,  there  are  texts  neither  of  these  men  know  the  meaning  of. 
'  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity.'  One  of  them  has  yet  to  learn 
that  pictures,  vestments,  music,  processions,  candlesticks,  and  con- 
fessionals are  not  religion  ;  and  the  other,  that  it  does  not  consist 
in  oratory,  excitement,  camp-meetings,  rant,  or  novelties.  There 
are  many,  very  many,  unobtrusive,  noiseless,  laborious,  practical 
duties  which  clergymen  have  to  perform  :  what  a  pity  it  is  they 
won  t  occupy  themselves  in  dischaiging  them,  instead  of  entangling 
themselves  in  controversies  on  subjects  not  necessary  to  salvation  ! 
But,  alas  !  the  Evangelical  divine,  instead  of  combating  the  devil, 
occupies  himself  in  fightins  uU>  l/u-hop ;  and  the  Newmanite, 
instead  of  striving  to  save  sinners,  prefers  to  '  curse  and  quit  his 
church.'  Don't  ask  me,  therefore,  which  is  right;  1  tell  you  they 
are  both  wrong" 
"  Exactly,"  sais  he. 

"  In  medio  tutissimus  ibis." 

"  Doctor,"  sais  I,  "  there  are  five  languages  spoke  on  the  Nova 
Scotia  coast  already  :  English,  Yankee,  Gaelic,  French,  and  Indian  ; 
for  goodness'  gracious  sake,  don't  fly  ort'  the  handle  that  way,  now, 
and  add  Latin  to  them  !  But,  my  friend,  as  i  have  said,  you  have 
waked  up  the  wrong  passenger,  if  you  think  1  am  an  ecclesiastical 
Bradshaw.  1  know  my  own  track.  It  is  a  broad  gauge,  and  & 


£36  THE     RECALL. 

ftraight  line,  and  I  never  travel  by  another,  fur  fear  of  being  put  on 
a  wrong  one.  Do  you  take  ?  But  here  is  the  boat  alongside;" 
and  1  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  obtained  his  promise,  at  parting, 
that  he  and  Jessie  would  visit  me  at  Slickville  in  the  autumn. 

And  now,  Squire,  1  must  write  finis  to  the  cruise  of  the  "  Black 
Hawk.'*  and  close  my  remarks  on  ''Nature  and  Human  Nature," 
or,  "  Men  and  Things;"  for  1  have  brought  it  to  a  termination, 
though  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  do,  I  assure  you,  for  I  seem  as  if  I 
couldn't  say  farewell.  It  is  a  word  that  don't  come  handy,  no  how 
1  can  fix  it.  It's  like  Sam's  hat-band,  which  goes  nineteen  times 
round,  and  won't  tie  at  last.  I  don't  like  to  bid  good-bye  to  my 
Journal,  and  I  don't  like  to  bid  good-bye  to  you  ;  for  one  is  like  A 
child,  and  the  other  a  brother.  The  first  I  shall  see  again,  when 
Hurst  has  a  launch  in  the  spring  ;  but  shall  you  and  1  ever  meet 
again,  Squire  ?  that  is  the  question,  for  it  is  dark  to  me.  If  it 
ever  does  come  to  pass,  there  must  be  a  considerable  slip  of  time 
first.  Well,  what  can't  be  cured  must  be  endured.  So  here  goes. 
Her->  is  the  last  fatal  word  ;  I  shut  my  eyes  when  I  write  it,  tor  I 
ean't  bear  to  s<;e  it.  Here  it  is 

Amjtf.rsand. 


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